


Old Salt

by TheRookieKing412



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Mermaids, Pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRookieKing412/pseuds/TheRookieKing412
Summary: (Title subject to change)In 1832, the era of Piracy is over, and for Ahiru, a young woman who wants for everything, tales of the sea tempt her to leave the small town that holds her to ancient traditions. She gets the chance, however, when she is put under a curse that transforms her into a mermaid. In order to return home to her betrothed she must go on a transatlantic quest, facing creatures of old, cursed pirates, and her own history.
Relationships: Ahiru | Duck/Fakir (Princess Tutu), Autor/Femio (Princess Tutu), Lilie/Pique (Princess Tutu), Mytho/Rue (Princess Tutu)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

1817, Germany, along the Western Coast

⎈

There was a rickety old table in the center of their house. It creaked, pieces of wood were rotting. It was scratched with the corners rubbed raw, and it gave the small child many splinters. 

But the small child loved the table, it was where all her favorite meals were. It was where she, her mother, and her father all sat and had breakfast whenever he was home. It was where mother gave her a small snack, sometimes apple slices or an orange peeled and halved to share. It was where mother sat down heavily at the end of a long day and pulled out her knitting, or her sewing, or her embroidery. 

It was where Ahiru sat, too, and tried her best to sew as well as her mother did. 

Or, when Ahiru was finished playing outside because she had fallen and scraped the heels of her hands and her mother would laugh gently, hold her on her lap until the tears stopped coming, and sing. 

Above all things, Ahiru loved when her mother sang to her the most. 

She sang lullabies, and hymns, she sang all the songs Ahiru loved because Ahiru loved every song her mother sang. 

Mother sang about stories, tales of Celtic heroes, and Greek demigods, of selkies and sirens.

Mother did her best to teach Ahiru all these things, to give her knowledge of the world and of its history. 

Ahiru would still learn, but not from her mother. 

Ahiru sat at the pine table in her mother’s chair - one leg shorter than all the others - and rocked back and forth, her father entered the house, his eyes were red. 

Ahiru ran her tiny hand over the table, it had only been a week, but already the weight had settled on her shoulders. 

Her mother was gone.

She didn’t remember anything from that day, just that it was the last time she would ever get to gaze upon the face of her loving mother before she was buried in the dirt, laid to rest. Forever.

Her father held her hand, and then she grew up.

Years passed by without her consent, watched by friends and neighbors when her father was out at sea, none of them were ever as loving as her mother had been, none of them knew her songs. Ahiru realized quickly that a mother could never be replaced, that a mother’s love was greater than any stranger could give. 

It was in those days that she took it upon herself to be more than what her role was.

She was supposed to be a child, making mud pies and daisy chains, but she had to put that behind her. 

She remembered, running over rocks and grabbing fish in the tide pools, going to bed exhausted, her head full of stories, she tried to sing, but she could never remember all of the words. 

Her childhood ended. 

Until she was thirteen, she attended school, only to return home straight after and do her chores. Miss. Retzel, who was a friend of her mother’s, came over often to watch Ahiru when she was young, but now was married herself and had a family to attend to. And Ahiru could not keep a mother away from her family, she couldn’t bear the guilt. 

Soon, Ahiru didn’t need someone to watch over her, she took on the responsibility of taking care of a house, despite her young age. 

As she grew older, so did the town, they grew used to the idea that Ahiru was no longer a child who scampered about, but a young lady who knew how to handle the financials. Who came and bought a bag of apples twice a month. Who bought a new broom when the old one broke. Who bought used books with her small allowance. She was small and short, her knees still knobby, and her jaw still soft but no one saw that. No, not anymore. 

She grew up so fast, but now she was growing old. 

It was the summer of 1831, fourteen years after her mother passed, and Ahiru had turned twenty in the spring. She watched the girls she attended school with get married to the boys she attended school with. 

Angeline even had her first child, a bright baby boy, while Ahiru was still alone. 

It didn’t bother her, the weddings she attended, the baby showers she was preparing herself for. She shared her happiness with her friends and neighbors, smiled and danced, but there was a sadness in her heart that she would never be able to shake. So, as she stood on the rocky shore, looking out over the tepid ocean, her heart ached.

The sea made perfect sounds, the sky bleeding colors as the sun faded below the horizon. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. It was as blue as the water below her, the faded embroidery work of her mother sat around the edges. 

Ahiru was careful not to step in the water, where her shoes would be filled with water, and her socks would get soaked.

She found her spot, a well hidden one, and sat down where she could not be seen. 

The day was done. Her hair was combed and braided for the night, she had read the chapter she allotted herself, the floors of the house swept, the corners dusted, the shopping was finished, and dinner was hung and ready to be warmed up above the fire pit for her arrival. 

But Ahiru sat unsatisfied, her heart quaking. 

Ahiru found herself wanting, which always led to heartache, and therefore she never allowed herself to want. 

Today, Ahiru wanted something different. 

Today, Ahiru wanted change. 

The life she had was empty, and she was tired of it. 

Ahiru picked up a rock and threw it into the waves. Ahiru stared out at sea, she could see a ship on the horizon, perhaps it was her father, perhaps it was a trading ship, perhaps it was her imagination because she so desperately wanted to be on that ship. 

She wanted to leave this small town where she knew everyone, where everyone knew her, where everyone was settling in to live the same lives as their parents, she wanted to go out into the world, to get a small taste of freedom. Where things were strange, and nothing would remind her of her mother. 

But then, she didn’t want that at all. 

It was too much, a whole world that she had never faced, and when she thought about it too much, she lost her courage. 

Ahiru touched the shawl around her shoulders, hoping and praying it would give her comfort, but it never did.

Ahiru wanted. She always wanted. 

She yearned, and pined, and sought out new things. 

She wanted a life that wasn’t meant for her. 

Ahiru stared out at the sea, she could still see the ship, but just barely. 

Ahiru picked up a stone and threw it as hard as she could. She had made a promise to herself years ago, and so long as she didn’t break it she would be fine.

She picked up another, and it went farther than the first. 

She refused to share the same fate her mother did, to die so young and break the hearts of everyone she was leaving behind.

A third was in her palm, her arm reeled back to chuck it, but it felt different than the others. She stopped and brought it down. It looked less like stone, and more like sea glass. 

There was a jar in her father’s room filled with sea glass. 

Ahiru could remember, holding her mother’s hand as they strode down the beach, picking up stray pieces of sea glass, never the same color as the last.

This came from a crystal clear bottle, for now it was frosted white, she could see a pattern, a swirl, perhaps it was from a broken perfume bottle. Her mother would have treasured it, and so would she. She dropped it in the pocket of her apron. 

Ahiru thought of her father, who would always hold onto the sea glass, no matter how many his wife gave him, and he would hold her hand with the other. 

Ahiru brushed her hands against smooth stone, softened by years and years of the crashing of the sea. 

Father would leave for long periods of time, but after he lost his wife, there was never a moment where he would stay. Ahiru was left waiting for his return. Always waiting. She would never be left waiting again. 

The tip of Ahiru’s finger ran over a small fish, silver thread weaved in and out, tiny scales and fanned fins. They chased each other around the edge, riding waves, and hiding behind rocks. 

Ahiru felt her stomach rumble, and her shoulders started to shiver, it was dark now, the stars and moon giving her barely any light, and left her wanting.

She returned, to an empty home, where she would wait for her father to return.


	2. Chapter 2

1832

⎈

“Good morning, Miss. Alder.” 

Ahiru felt herself sigh, the corners of her lips tilting up in a tired smile, her eyes begging the heavens to give her strength. “Good morning to you, Mr. Amontillado.”

Ahiru shifted through the piles of tomatoes, looking for one that was ripe enough for her liking, as Dylan Amontillado smiled at the back of her head. 

“May I help you with that basket today?”

Ahiru looked at him over her shoulder and smiled at him pleasantly, “No thank you, I only have a few things to gather today.” She turned back, finally finding one that wasn’t too small, and one that seemed red enough, and handed Mrs. Thompson the fee. 

She turned away, her eyes to the clear blue sky, dotted with puffy clouds that made her want to rest her head upon them as if they were perfect pillows, she could hear the seagulls along the rooftops, hoping for some food to drop on the floor. And, she could hear Dylan walking a steady pace behind her, perhaps three steps back, and off to her left. 

People waved at her, their eyes sliding from her face to Dylan’s and she so wished that he would leave. 

He was talking to her, and she hadn’t been listening. She had been thinking about the clouds, and how fast they were moving across the sky, it must be so windy up there- 

“Miss. Alder?”

“Hmm?” Ahiru stopped, and turned her head. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Dylan blushed, “I- I said the day is beautiful, but not as beautiful as you, Miss.- Miss. Alder.”

Ah, well, that was fine. Ahiru kept walking.

“Miss.- Miss. Alder!” Dylan darted before her, until they stood face to face and she couldn’t continue forward. “I have brought you a humble gift, should you feel obliged to accept it.” 

He offered her then, a white daisy - as he did everyday - as a lame declaration of his love. 

She smiled, she used to blush wildly, and refuse it, saying she didn’t deserve his affections, but now it was getting tiresome.

“Thank you.” She said, and as she reached for the flower, her hand outstretched, he leaned forward and put the flower behind her ear. 

“There, now you look perfect. I- I wanted to give it to you because- because-”

“Because you leave tomorrow?” Ahiru offered, plucking the flower from her hair and placing it in her basket next to her tomatoes. 

His face fell as his eyes became trained on the daisy. “Yes. For three months. I won’t see you until-” 

“September, I know.” 

“Miss. Alder, you have truly made my day, I will think of nothing but you, and when I return, I only pray your father is home.”

And Ahiru prayed that Dylan would never get that chance. She couldn’t afford to let her father accept Dylan’s proposal. 

Dylan would have wanted to kiss her cheek, like he had done when they were children and met for the first time at school. He had never seen someone with red hair, and he had loved her from that day on. 

At least, that is what he told her.

But Dylan’s lips never touched her skin again. Still, the day didn’t seem as lovely before, and she wished once more that she could fall asleep on those clouds, so that at least when she woke up she’d be far away from here. 

Ahiru followed the road that lead to the house that sat on a ledge, the sea churning madly below, the wood old and battered, soaked with seasalt and leaning to the side whichever way the wind blew. She kicked rocks and sang under her breath, the only song she could remember her mother singing. 

_ “Here I sit and here I sing _

_ And await the night that's closing in _

_ Little know I my bairn's father _

_ The land that he dwells in _

_ He came one night into my bed _

_ Both rough and smooth was he _

_ Saying _

_ Will you take me for a lover _

_ For your husband I ne'er can be _

_ I am a man upon the land _

_ And I am a selkie on the sea _

_ And when I'm far, far from land _

_ My home _

_ It is in Skule Skerry” _

She sang it over and over as she made the walk from town to her father’s house, watching her muddy boots to make sure she didn’t slip in the mud. Wrapping her shawl closer to her arms as the wind whipped around her. 

“Here I sit and here I sing…” Ahiru looked up at the house, slanting eastward today, far away from town, old and a deep brown, with thick glass in some windows, and wooden shutters in others. She opened the back door, and left her boots on the porch, she picked up the flower and threw it to the ground, where a small pile of daisies lay trampled. Once inside, she latched the door and placed the basket on the pine kitchen table. 

Wiping her hands on her apron, she did her chores, waiting for her father to return from sea.

Today would be the day, whether his big hands would open the door now, or late at night, after Ahiru had fallen asleep in her chair by the fire while she tried to stay up and greet him.

She swept and scrubbed the floors, she decided to dust and knock down the cobwebs, she wiped down the table, and started dinner. 

Ahiru stirred the pot, and then wiped down the kitchen table. 

She waited, until her stomach growled and groaned. 

She ate three hours after the last light of the sun faded into darkness. 

She wiped down the table, and tended to the fire, her eyes drooping. 

There were no sounds of footsteps coming softly up the road, and Ahiru lit a candle as she finally let the fire die.

She covered the pot that hung above the embers, and wiped down the table. 

She wiped down the table. 

And wiped down the table. 

When she woke up, the fire was crackling, and there were two eggs, scrambled and left for her on the edge.

Ahiru jumped and looked around, but her father wasn’t there. 

Ahiru blinked away tears.

_ Here I sit and here I sing _

_ And await the night that’s closing in. _

Ahiru ate quickly, put on her mother’s shawl, covered in fish playing, and pushed open the door, forgetting her boots, she made her way to town.

The sky was bright, and it was a lovely day. 

She could hear the gulls flying over by the coast, waiting for someone to drop a speck of food.

The town, with painted white buildings, with large ships which sails and masts that stretched far above even the tallest buildings. People walked in the street, and she walked past them away, making her way to the market, where her father would be selling his fish.

People waved as they passed, and she noticed them very little, her heart beating fast as she made her way to her father. 

It was a strong smell, the scent of fish fresh from the sea. The clouds of seagulls were thick, and so were the people, lining up to buy as much fish as they could. Some merchants that lived in town, some from very far away that would take the fish south. 

Ahiru pushed through them, until she saw the men that knew her well - for they were the same crew of men since Ahiru was little - they wished her good morning.

At last, Ahiru could see him, her father, talking with someone she didn’t know, which meant they would be taking shipments south. 

“Papa!” She yelled, over and over until she was close enough and he heard her. 

“Ahiru, wait a moment, I am talking with this young man.” 

Ahiru wasn’t phased, but she waited. 

Father was a big man. He was tall, and towered over the residents of this town, he had broad shoulders, and strong arms and big hands. He had sturdy legs, and earned his sea legs quickly. Father, with red hair and blue eyes that used to sparkle like the ocean.

“Papa.” She tired again, she watched his shoulders tense.

“Ahiru, stand to the side. I have much to say to you, but you will wait for me.”

She didn’t have to wait much longer, as a deal was struck between father and the tradesman. 

He turned, his great bearded face, and his broken nose, and his dull blue eyes giving her his undivided attention.

“Why didn’t you wake me up when you came home?”

Father handed the marks to someone else, Ahiru didn’t see who, her eyes were locked on his. “It was late, and you looked tired.”

“You could have woken me before you left!”

“I left as soon as I entered, I only came home to drop off my belongings.” 

Ahiru pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Still. I wanted to see you, I waited for you.”

“I saw.”

“Then why-”

“Ahiru, I don’t want you waiting by the fire anymore.”

She stopped, her mouth hanging open.

“A young lady goes to bed when she’s supposed to.”

“I go to bed at a proper hour most nights, but when my father is tired and weary-”

“It is not your job to wait for me.”

Ahiru tensed, she hadn’t noticed the din around her when she came, but she was starting to notice the silence. “Papa-”

“Ahiru, you are a young lady, soon to be married. I want you to start acting like it. Now, go home.”

Ahiru blinked.

“Go, and don’t make me tell you again.”

Ahiru turned sharply and walked away, she didn’t have to push through the crowd as they scurried away as she passed by.

Behind her, she heard. “Ah, go easy on her, Liam, she’s just a young lass.”

“It’s time she learned-”

She didn’t hear what her father said, his voice too far away, and she turned onto a busy street, a street that hadn’t heard her father scolding her.

It was what her mother used to do. 

Mother would make a big dinner, with bread and sometimes wine, she’d clean the house so it was spotless, and then she’d sit in a chair by the fire and wait for papa to come home, she’d hold Ahiru in her lap, and Ahiru would drift to sleep, being so young. 

She remembered, father would come home, and when the door opened she would half wake, Father would kiss mother, and then kiss the top of her own head and take her from mother’s arms to put her back in her own bed. 

She’d fall back asleep, father and mother smiling at her, and then at each other. 

Ahiru continued on, walking through the streets until she made her way to the docks, where she scampered down until she was on the sandy shore that was always draped in the shadows of the docks. 

She took off her shoes, splattered with mud, and a little wet, she would have to clean them now since she had left her boots at the door. 

She removed her socks, white except for her poor attempts at embroidery across the top. 

She didn’t sit, too tired to deal with the sand that would stick to her dress, and simply walked.

She walked until the sound of the town was muffled, and when she looked around her there was nothing. She walked until the sand became rock and she had to carefully climb around them. 

She was tired, and hungry, and upset. The sun was fading, the sky tinted pink when she sat down and stuck her feet into the water, coming up her ankles, and then resting at the bottom of her feet, coming up to her ankles, and then resting at the bottom of her feet. 

She leaned on her knees and cupped her chin. 

The water was orange, and sometimes pink, but mostly golden, as she watched the sunset. 

“ _ Here I sit and here I sing…”  _ She began half-heartedly, watching the foam forming and disappearing. “ _ And await the night that’s closing in.” _

She saw something, another ship out on the horizon. “ _ Little know I my barin’s father.”  _

But it disappeared, too. 

On rock islets, she saw seals coming to rest, out of the waves she saw dolphins jumping. “ _ On this the land that he dwells in.”  _ She pretended they were selkies and mermaids, from the old tales her mother spun. A colony of women who lived freely in the sea, away from rough men, and petulant boys. 

“ _ They’re real, Ahiru”  _ Her mother used to say, holding her close as she sang her to sleep. “ _ I’ve seen them in the waves!” _

_ “Daft, you are, little woman.”  _ Father would say, chuckling and kissing his wife’s temple.  _ “I live out on the sea and I’ve never seen such a thing.” _

_ “They wouldn’t show themselves to you!”  _

Father would laugh,  _ “Wouldn’t they? You’d think they’d miss the company of a man with all those women around.” _

Mother laughed, and shooed him away.  _ “Look for them, and you’ll see, I promise.” _

Ahiru did look, she scanned the waves that rose and fell, looking for sea women who lived free from the company of men, but she never saw anything. 

She rose and turned, going back home. 

⎈

Father was home for a week before he left once more. 

The rest of the men would be home for three more months, to spend time with their wives and children. But father joined a second crew, the ship leaving today, gone for three months, arriving just in time for him to leave with the first crew.

Ahiru was left alone on the docks, watching as the ship faded over the horizon, she stood with the other women, but she was the last to leave, only moving when the wind became too chill. 

Then, her life continued on as if her father hadn’t returned home at all, she was left alone, and waiting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mark is the type of money they use in Germany, or at least what they used to? I google it so I'm definitely right.   
> *The song she sings is called The Grey Selkie by Maz O'Connor, there are lots of different versions since the song is so old, but this is the one that I liked the best.   
> I will be updating chapters on a weekly basis, every Saturday, until the end of the year as a writing exercise. Some of the chapters will be shorter, like this and the first one, and some will be longer.   
> Please share and offer constructive criticism.  
> Thank you


	3. Chapter 3

1825

⎈

“You can’t do this.” He said, his fingers moving the curtain aside. The grounds were dark, save for the lanterns that trailed down the paths of the gardens, but they were dim and lit very little. Their only saving grace would have been the moon, had it not been blocked by thick, black clouds.

“I have no choice!”

He looked back over his shoulder, his sister was running around her room, packing clothes, shoes; accessories. 

She was raiding her jewelry box, emptying the contents into her trunk, she stomped away before she paused and looked at her hand. 

Her engagement ring, encrusted with rubies and pearls, sat heavy on her finger, the gold gleamed in his eye. 

Her hand trembled, and the same question that ran through her mind ran through his.

_ Will she pawn it off?  _

“It would give you enough to last a lifetime.” He said, acting as her conscious. 

Her eyes narrowed, “I want more than just enough.” 

He turned his head back to the grounds, watching, waiting. 

“They’ll be alerted of your absence by morning, and they will go after you until they’ve found you.”

“I don’t care, I’ll die before I marry that man! He is cruel, and loathsome. He is vile! His eldest son is older than me!” There was so much desperation in her voice, her words were usually sweet and dripped with honey, she had a calm confident air at all times, now she had been reduced to some creature scared of even her own shadow. 

There was movement, and the clock chimed twelve. A servant went about dosing the lights. 

Father never liked to waste. 

“We better hurry, at best we have six hours.” He pushed away from the window, exiting her rooms. 

“We?” 

He was lucky his apartments were so close. He didn’t look back or say anything, but he smirked as he pulled a shoulder bag from its place inside his door and shouldered it. Inside were their mother’s stolen jewels - gone missing seven days before - and a riding suit, his second, since he was wearing his first. 

He came back to her room, and she was struggling to lift up her trunk, so he gave her his knapsack in exchange. She searched his eyes, waiting for him to confirm her theory, then, there was a small smile upon her lips, reminiscent of her old self.

She opened the window and climbed down the lattice without a moment’s hesitation, waiting in the roses as he followed suit. 

“The horses, we should-”

“Not yet, we get past the wall, I paid Charon for two of his steeds, and he swore to me he would claim them as stolen.”

He waited, his sister silent, as the grounds went completely dark and the servant’s door was shut and bolted. 

“Go.”

They crept across the lawn as slowly as they could, staying hidden and only going out in the open if they had to. 

He threw the trunk over the wall, and gave her a boost. She rested at the top, and gave him her hand to help him over. 

She didn’t lose balance, but when she jumped, she landed poorly on her foot and whimpered, biting her tongue to keep herself from crying out. 

“Are you alright?”

She nodded, but tears were flowing out of her eyes. 

“Damn.” He looked back up the wall, he heard nothing, he wondered if their father still slept or if he could smell their insolence and was roused from his deep slumber.

She stood, she grit her teeth, she hoisted the strap of his bag further up her shoulder. “Come alone then.”

He stood, the handle of her trunk caught in his fist.

They walked to Charon’s, and while they knew the way, it was different at night, different when they were too afraid of being spotted on the road. 

It grew colder, and he began to fear that they would be too late, that the sun would start to rise before they could escape past the town wall.

“A little farther.” He promised.

“I-I can’t.” 

He looked back, she was pale and sickly. He swallowed, she was leaning to the side, he dropped his handful. “Wait here, I’ll bring the horses back to you.”

She nodded, breathing heavily. “Be quick.” 

He ran the rest of the way, with nothing weighing him down but the worry that she would be found. 

Soon, he saw the stacks of smoke rising from the blacksmith’s fire. 

Charon was awake, the sounds of his hammer ringing through the night. 

He took the horses that were loosely tied to the fence outside; Charon never even looked back. 

He held the reins in his hand, walking them back to the part of the road where his sister was hiding in the trees. 

He left her trunk, stuffing her belongings into the four saddles, he almost scoffed at the collection of books she had stowed away with her, and then when they were full, the rest he packed into the empty corners of his knapsack. 

“Is your foot alright in the stirrup?”

She nodded. “It’s better now that I have rested it.”

They rode for three days - stopping only for short breaks, being too afraid to sleep - until they reached the German broders. They sold their horses to pay for train tickets, and rode into the heart of France. There they stayed, they knew the language well, and no one knew their family name. Here, no one was loyal to their father. 

“We’ll never be safe.” She said, one evening. 

They stayed at an inn for several days, after the long journey he fell asleep for fourteen hours, but she was still on her feet. 

“We’re in Paris.”

“And you don’t think he’ll come here?” 

“Then where do you think we’ll be free?”

“America.”

He scoffed.

“We can get on a boat and just leave!”

“Of course.”

“Please, please I don’t want to stay here any longer!” 

She was good at getting him to do whatever she wanted. 

When they were children, she would kick and bite until they played tea parties, as they grew older, all she had to do was make her eyes water and pout her lips. 

She didn’t do that today, instead the look she gave him was one of fright, and that was perhaps worse than forged tears. That damned look of desperation. 

The honey had not returned to her voice.

They left the inn that night, purchasing train tickets to La Rochelle, and left on the midnight train. 

She did not sleep even then, but he ordered her wine and made her drink until her mind was fogged.

They came to Vieux Port.

There were no ships going to America. Not for several months. 

She almost cried, but he wouldn’t let her.

Their father was a smart man, there was a chance he would figure out the plans of his children, that their minds were set to sail the seas. 

He took her to another room at another inn, and she fell asleep easily as a headache claimed her. 

He pulled on a cloak when the darkness set, and making sure that she was deep in sleep, he went out. He walked until the shining buildings faded, where the cobblestoned streets were covered in dirt and mud, where the night was loud and women stood on the corners of streets. 

He knew he found where he wanted to be when a bottle of alcohol was thrown out a window. He had found the local tavern.

He stepped inside, someone was standing on a table top, screaming at the top of his lungs, and when he fell to the ground blacking out, the tavern cheered. 

It was warm, warmer than he preferred, but he didn’t have much choice.

He ordered a tankard of ale and retreated to a corner.

He waited for the room to quiet as the hours passed. People left, some men following dumbly after women, friends carrying their passed out fellow men into the street, the barkeep relaxed and cleaning out glasses. 

There was a man in the center of the room, he had a great belly, a big red coat, and a peg leg.

He was surrounded by a group of men, some with missing teeth, some not even wearing shoes. 

They all drank rum.

He had heard of stories about pirates, he had seen pictures drawn in books, and thought they looked ridiculous. 

They spoke English, in horrible accents. 

They talked about the Caribbean. 

He left quickly, determined to wake his sister and set her packing, a plan began to formulate in his mind. 

“What?”

“Wake up, pack.” He told her where to go and to dress as inconspicuous as possible. “We’re leaving tonight.”

But, the plan backfired immediately. 

The pirates left the tavern at dawn, and brother and sister followed behind them at a steady pace, sneaking onto the ship was fine - not as easy as jumping the manor wall, however - but as soon as they shut the port hole behind them, they heard:

“Looks like we got a few stowaways boys!” 

The band of pirates smiled, their eyes gleaming with murderous intent, trapped like a couple of rats. 

They were placed in holding cells, their belongings taken.

“Some plan.”

“At least we’re headed to America.”

She huffed. “As prisoners, and who's to say they won’t have us walk the plank!”

“I doubt they have an actual plank.”

“They’re pirates! Of course they have a plank! You’re insufferable!”

“Hey, can you quiet down?” 

They stopped their bickering. 

The voice that spoke was French, and belonged to a girl.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“Lillie, they can’t understand you, they were speaking, uh, some other language.”

“We can speak French as well.” His sister said, switching over seamlessly. 

“Oh fuck.”

“Yes, well, I am still trying to sleep.”

In the holding cell across from theirs, he saw two girls, maybe fourteen, they themselves were dressed as pirates, the blonde had a ruffled skirt that didn’t cover her knees with black boots, and the other, with dark auburn hair, wore torn pants, they were too big and held up by a thick brown belt.

“We have to get out of here.” He said, standing and holding the bars. 

“He’s handsome.” The girl who cursed whispered to the girl who was pretending to sleep. 

She opened one eye and looked at him. “Yes, I suppose, as far as men go.”

There was a creak, as if someone was coming closer. The four of them all froze, but then the footsteps faded. He listened, they came close and then retreated, came close, and retreated. The man, their warden, sang a song under his breath, whistling and humming some parts. Metal keys jingled.

“Fine.” One of the girls swallowed. “How?”

“We-”

“Stop.” His sister said, rising. “Your last plan ended with us in this cage, it’s my turn.”

“Pique.” The girl with auburn hair said. “This is Lillie.”

Lillie was still laying on the floor, but she listened. Her eyes wide open.

“Alright, here’s what we’ll do.” She said. 

“HEY!” Pique shouted. “HELLO! I NEED HELP!” 

Lillie sat next to her, rattling the bars.

She shouted again.

And the cell across appeared empty. 

She shouted until her voice was raw because no one came. 

“I don’t know about this.” She whispered.

“Keep going.”

“HELLO!” 

“Al’ight, al’ight, settle down there lassie!” The door opened and an older man walked in. He had a limp, his head covered by a scarf, his bread was scruffy, his skin leathery, on his belt the metal keys rattled. “What’ll ya need?”

Pique pointed across the way with her finger. “Gone.” She said, her English accent thick.

The old man turned, his eyes widened for the cell did appear to be empty. He walked forward slowly. 

“I’ve heard tales of- of phantoms, but ne’er did I stop to think that I’d really see it with me own eyes!” His hands touched the bars and he leaned forward.

His sister rose up. “Boo.”

The Pirate’s eyes widened and before he had a chance to scream, the front of his shirt was grabbed by the ghost and he was pulled roughly forward, his head clinging against the metal bars. 

He crumpled to the ground, the keys lifted from his belt. As his sister moved to unlock the cell of the two young French girls, he knelt beside the Pirate and searched his body. 

Charon was a friend of their mother, he was kind, and when they were too tired of playing at the manor, they would run over to the blacksmith’s, and watch as he made swords out of nothing, laughing at their fascination. Against the wishes of his father, Charon taught the Lord’s son much about smithery, including how to handle a sword. 

There was a gun, a small dagger, and a good old fashioned cutlas tied to his hip. 

He handed his sister the gun, and held the dagger out to Pique

“Thank you.” She said, her eyes a steel blue, they were serious, and deadly. “But, I handle guns.”

Lillie kissed his cheek and winked as she slipped the dagger from his hand. 

“I don’t know how to work this.”

“I do.” Pique said, and, in a move that was entirely too trusting, his sister handed her the gun. 

“We go floor by floor, room by room, got it?”

The four nodded at each other. 

They were in the bottom of the ship, and they combed their way up, eventually each of them had a blunderbuss, a dagger, but only one cutlass had been found. 

It was night, most of the men had been asleep at their posts, Pique snuck up on them, silent on her bare feet, and used the end of her gun to give them a good knock on the head. They used rope to tie their hands and feet, or simple to barricade the doors of a room. It was less men than he would have thought. Then, finally, they peered out onto the deck of the ship. 

“I don’t see anyone,” Pique said, opening the door without the slightest creak, “but someone will be in the crow’s nest. Lillie, dearest?”

“Why of course.” Lillie shot out and disappeared into the darkness. 

“Leave the helm to me.” Pique said, cocking her blunderbuss. 

“Whose left?”

“Why, I would believe that would be me.”

They turned and behind them stood the fat man with the peg leg. The captain.

They raced out onto the deck before he could grab them, but he pursued. 

“Stand and face me boy! I recognize your face! You watched me men! You followed us to the harbor! Fight me!”

He stopped, he watched his sister run off into the night, but he turned, tired of running. 

He raised his cutlass just in time, blocking the captain’s downward swing. 

He could barely see, and neither could the captain, but the captain had an advantage, he knew this ship. 

He was ugly, in what little light was available, his face was covered in scars, several teeth were missing, some so yellow they were almost brown, his lips were thin. There was still food in his beard. 

His father was always pristine, freshly shaven, teeth impossibly straight, and clean, his skin was pale, a sign that he spent his days in an office, always an office, his hair was neat and well trimmed, fashioned stylishly, his clothes never stained. But he was just as ugly as this pirate.

In his mind, they were inseparable. 

He took out all the anger he had against his father on the captain, swinging fiercely, a warring cry ripped out of his throat. 

It didn’t matter that this old man was an experienced pirate, he was a terrible swordsman.

It was obvious.

His movements were slowing, less confident, and he made a dreadful mistake. 

He lifted his sword and sliced off the hand of the pirate captain. 

The captain cried and moaned, screaming as he held his bleeding stump.

He dropped his sword, but bent down to uncurl the captain’s fingers from the fallen cutlas. 

“I’LL KILL YO-”

A shot rang out through the night, and the captain slumped over. Dead.

His sister stood, her blunderbuss stretched out, the tip smoking. 

Lillie jumped down from the crow’s nest, and Pique came down from the helm. 

“That was incredible! We took out an entire ship of pirates!” 

“You were dazzling.” Lillie smiled, fluttering her lashes at his sister. 

“You know, you never told us your names.” Pique said, moving over to the captain and taking his black hat. “I thought it was because you were protecting your identities, but now I’m thinking it’s because you were being rude.”

Pique tried to put the hat on his sister but she refused it. Pique shrugged and put it on her own head, the giant white feather fluttering in the wind. 

“I apologize for my brother, he’s typically rude. My name is Rue.” She curtsied, her hands holding out the gun instead of a dress.

“Fakir.” He said, not offering his hand or bowing. 

“So, now what?” 

Rue walked out to the west, where the sky was lightening as the sun rose. “How about we head to the Caribbean?” She smiled lightly, her eyes finding her brother’s. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“What, the Caribbean?”

“No, becoming pirates.” There was a look in her eye, the kind of look that told him he didn’t get a say so in the matter, that they were going to play the game Rue wanted. “Father will never find us.”

Pique and Lillie looked at each other excitedly. 

“No, I don’t suspect he will.” Fakir smirked, the sun was beginning to rise, and suddenly the stories he had read about pirates didn’t seem so much like fairy-tales anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Engagement rings weren't exactly in Vogue during this time, I believe it wasn't really until the Diamonds are Forever campaign in the 1940's (?)  
> *Rue is 15, Fakir is 18, Pique and Lillie are 14, but they next time they enter the story they'll be seven years older.   
> *Please post any critiques and constructive criticism


	4. Chapter 4

Ahiru woke with the caw of the rooster. 

The world still dark, but the sun will rise soon. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, but gasped when the cold licked her shoulders. 

She would have to add sleeves to her nightgown, but then she’d have to buy more fabric as well, and perhaps if she didn’t purchase a new - used - book next month she’d be able to get two yards.

The rooster cawed again, and this time Ahiru swung her legs over the bed.

She wrapped a scarf around her hair to keep her ears warm as she gathered eggs into a basket. “Good girl,” She said to each hen whether or not they left her an egg, petting their gentle heads. She threw them some grain just before she closed the door, and slammed it shut as the hens jumped from their nests to get their fill. 

Ahiru smiled. She liked chickens; she liked birds, there was something freeing about the idea of having wings with which she could fly away.

However, as she locked the coop, she realized she was much more like these chickens than the wild birds of the skies. 

She set her basket of eggs down by the back door, and picked up her milk pale. She walked to the cow tethered to a post, her tail swinging, mouth chewing on grass as if she had never been asleep. 

“Good morning, how was your night?” Ahiru asked, Gelbvieh brayed as Ahiru milked her. “Oh, was it a good dream?” 

Gelbvieh’s bell clanged as she bent her neck and ripped up grass. Ahiru would have to move her soon, the grass here was almost gone. 

“We’ll move you later today, how does that sound?” Ahiru smiled as she pat her cow’s flank, the milk pail heavy in her other hand. 

The dawn broke as Ahiru walked back. Off with her boots, and in with her eggs and milk, the belly of the sun sat on the sea. 

Ahiru removed her scarf. 

Breakfast was two eggs and some bread she made last week. She’d have to make more today. 

She washed her face with cold water, it dripped down her elbows.

Today was Friday, which meant she had to go to town and market, and stock up on all that she was missing. Taking inventory, she was rather low on everything, but then again she was usually low on everything.

Her shawl on her shoulders, her wicker basket in the crook of her elbow, her muddy boots over her shoes, she walked out to go to town, her purse full.

The day was lovely, flowers grew on the edge of her path, birds played in the sky. 

She handled groceries first since her favorite sellers carried more earlier in the day. 

Apples. 

Berries. Scratch that. 

Cheese.

Corn.

Flour. 

Fish. There’s a sale. Great. Three more.

Lentils.

Lettuce.

Sausage. 

Sugar. Half a pound. No, better get a quarter.

Tomatoes?

Her basket full, arms heavy, her purse nearly empty, save for the payment for the landlords.

“Good morning, dear.”

Ahiru came to a stop and looked over, there was an old woman, sitting on the pavement, smiling at the sky. 

“Mighty cold this day, isn’t it?” Still, the woman’s eyes were pointed at the sky and    
Ahiru didn’t know whether the old woman talked to her, or…

“No, not me.” The old woman sniffed. “Rather sit inside on a day like this!” 

“Excuse me.” Ahiru spoke, catching the old woman’s eye. 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry dear, how’d you get in?” She was pale, her skin hung around her bones, but her eyes were a sparkling blue. 

Ahiru didn’t recognize her, which was strange. No one new ever came here.

“Ahiru!” 

Ahiru looked over her shoulder, Evangeline, holding Charlie, was waving her over.

“I- I didn’t mean to bother you.” Ahiru said, “I couldn’t help but overhear, are you cold?”

“How did I-?” The old woman looked around her, as if just realizing she was outside. 

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Ahiru said, setting down her basket and removing her shawl. “May I ask where you’re from?” She placed it around the old woman. 

She blinked, her eyebrows clinked. “I came from just south of here. I was looking for- for- My word, I’ve forgotten!” 

“That’s alright!” Ahiru said. “Were you looking for someone?”

“Yes, my husband!... He was due to be back by now. To return from… the sea.” 

“Ahiru!” Evangeline called again, standing at her side now. “Oh my dear, hurry along now, or the bread will all be bought up.”

Ahiru turned back to the woman, her hair white as snow peaked through her raggedy head scarf, Ahiru’s shawl was the best piece of cloth the old woman wore. 

“You are most fortunate that I was here to save you.” Evangeline said, struggling to keep her squirming son from getting down and running off. “That old woman wondered in sometime last night and just sat herself down like she was home!” 

Ahiru adjusted the basket on her arm. “Poor thing, she must be so lonely.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but Ahiru didn’t see it for she was watching the old woman. Most walked a wide arch to avoid even the possibility of meeting her eye.

“Well, hurry along.” Evangeline said, letting Charlie clamber down before running off after him. “Charlie, no!”

Ahiru smiled, but it faded as she went to the landlord’s office. 

It was never an exciting day when the landlord demanded pay. 

The bell chimed as she walked into the office, everything seemed grey, coated with dust, she didn’t dare sit down in the proffered chair. 

An old man walked in, he gave her a toothy grin and pulled out his ledger. 

“Welcome back, young miss.” He said, as he flipped through the pages, unfortunately his toothy grin never faltered. 

Ahiru took out her purse and placed her - and her father’s she supposed - rent on the counter. 

“Ah, one less.” He said, sliding back one mark. “ A new family comes to town, offered higher than what I normally charge, so I was able to lower everyone’s rent for three months.”

Ahiru took the mark and put it back. She’d have enough to buy extra fabric for her sleeves. 

“Thank you. May I ask who comes that everyone’s rent is lessened for three months?”

“A great family of Merchants and trade smiths from Bravaia. They bought a fleet of ships and wish to live where they’ll come in to port. I’ve heard as well that they wish to step away from the office for a while.” 

Ahiru blinked, she had never heard the landlord speak so much. “Why wouldn’t they port at a larger city?”

The old man shook his head, closed the ledger and cleared her money into his palm. “Thirty miles south there’s a train that runs straight to Bavaria. Suppose that’s better than taking multiple. One clear shot.” 

Ahiru nodded, she thanked the man and left, her mind reeling. 

For a long time, she truly thought the town was cursed, that secret walls surrounded her, never letting anyone in, or out.

But in her heart, she found hope. She could leave, she could take a train and ride it south, to Bavaria, or anywhere else. 

Perhaps, she was closer to the sky than she thought. 

⎈

Ahiru’s mother’s shawl was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, her only one after giving her white one to the old crone, the sky clear, and the day was lovely, a light breeze blew through the houses as Ahiru made her rounds. 

It was never good for her to stay locked up in that stuffy house all by herself, and going out once a week to get groceries was awful too.

Ahiru made a decent effort to see her old school friends.

Miss. Reatsel took her for afternoon tea on Monday. 

Evangeline invited her for lunch while her husband worked at the shop on Tuesday. 

Dylan’s mother had taken a liking to her ever since she was young, so Ahiru was often over for dinners every Wednesday. And fortunately his mother was rather traditional, so she never allowed Dylan to sit next to the girl he was courting. 

Ahiru met with Hermia on Thursdays while she delivered mail, mostly advice she had written in response to young girls who were deeply in love.

On Fridays, Ahiru was free, and so she liked to chat with the market salespersons, sometimes running tasks they couldn’t accomplish themselves without leaving their stalls. 

It was her own way of staying connected, of being part of the community, and following her mother’s footsteps. 

In the past, her mother would hold tea parties and would invite as many people from town as she could every Friday. Depending on the week, their house was alive and full of warm conversation, and others held just a few friends that were close and loving.

Now, Ahiru was afraid to invite people in. The house was dark and cold, a place unsuitable for guests. 

But, Ahiru had made different plans, and continued to be social. However, there was a fair bit of gossip at each and every table. 

Always the same story, but spinned on it’s head, Ahiru never believed any of it. 

How could Mr. Barely have slept with six different women? 

There was always a grain of truth, and normally, Ahiru could figure it out herself, after weeding through the flourishes. 

Mr. Barely had slept with another woman and cheated on his wife. No one knew who the woman was, but people had theories. 

Evangeline was the worst, always leaning in and whispering something juicy, acting as if it was only her privy to the information, when in fact, Ahiru had heard the watered down version from Miss. Reatsel the day before. 

This week, however, there were no added flourishes, no truth to discern. 

Because all the stories were the same. 

“The Schwan’s are moving here at the end of the week.” Reatsel said, “Isn’t that lovely?”

“They’re an old married couple, but I heard their son, heir to their fortune, is eligible! And, that he’s so dreamy.” Evangeline sighed, while Charlie played with the carved wooden toys his father had made him. “I hear, they’re coming in spectacle! And that they’re throwing a Midsummer’s Ball! Everyone is invited!” 

“I’ll have to air out my old gown! Oh, it’s a shame Dylan won’t be back in time, he would have loved to dance with you.” Mrs. Amontillado sighed, her eyes glazed over as she dreamed of dancing, her four other children chattering excitedly at the prospect. 

“So far, every letter has been asking advice on how to appear at a ball!” Hermia said. “But, the only problem is that I’ve never been to a ball either! I don’t know how to dance, or how to catch the eye of your loved one. I told them, to look their best, to be happy, and dance as much as they could!” 

“Everyone? Can you believe it? I would have never thought they would dare to invite anyone with a lower status than fisherman, but even the maidservants have been invited!” Mrs. Thomas said.

Ahiru sighed, she was getting tired talking about this ball, she certainly hadn’t received an invitation, and she had only heard it from… well, everybody, but she hadn’t seen any sign, or post or anything! How was she supposed to trust everyone? 

Well, there was at least one person who wouldn’t talk about the ball. 

Ahiru bought two cups of warm tea and then went to the curb where the old crone sat, still staring at the sky.

“Good afternoon!” 

“What? Oh, yes, it must be getting on in the day.” She smiled, her thin lips stretching wide, showing missing teeth. “Why don’t you sit down next to me?”

Ahiru smiled, she sat and passed the cup to the old crone. “How has your day been so far?” She asked, blowing the surface. 

The old crone held her cup with both hands, savoring the warmth it provided her. “It’s been a rather wet day, hasn’t it?”

Ahiru glanced at the sky, still as blue as the old woman’s eyes, but nodded anyway. 

“Your day, my dear?”

Ahiru looked at her tea, her fingers tracing the rim. “Oh, I dunno. My whole week hasn’t been that great.”

“Oh?” 

“Well, everybody keeps talking about this ball that the whole town is invited to, but I’m not really sure if it’s really going to happen, or… If I’m even invited.” 

“I went to a grand ball once.” Her eyes started to clear, the hunch in her back straightening. “I wore feathers in my hair, my fingers bejeweled, my neck heavy with pearls. I danced with many a men, but none as handsome as the man I was fated to marry.”

Ahiru smiled. “That sounds lovely.”

“It was, it was.” She nodded, she swallowed a great amount of tea. “My husband was a man who was always fated to leave me, and yet here I am, still waiting for him to return to my arms.” 

Ahiru looked down at her tea, and suddenly, it didn’t taste so good anymore. “Was he a fisherman?” 

The old crone blinked, she looked at the ground and picked something up. She gasped, “Look my dear, look! A pretty pendant! Put it on, put it on!” 

The old crone turned a glazed look back at Ahiru, and in her hand was the wing of a junebug, its iridescence shimmering in the light. 

Ahiru smiled gently, taking it and putting it in her pocket. “Thank you.”

“Here I sit and here I sing!”

“What?” Ahiru blinked owlishly. She had never…

“My heart is pierced by cupid!” She sang, her voice getting louder and louder until people on the street stopped to glare at her. “Parsley, sage, rosemary, and Thyme!”

“Shut it!” 

“Hey, that’s not very nice!” Ahiru shot up to glare at a young man, the anger plain on his face, but he walked away regardless, Ahiru sat down, but too late, her tea had split all over the curb and some onto the old crone’s dress. “Oh, no! I’m very sorry!”

“See? Very wet today.” 

Ahiru bit her lip, “Come home with me, please, I can wash your clothes for you.”

Ahiru helped the old woman stand, wrapping her warped knuckles around her elbow, they slowly made their way out of the market, out of town, and up the road. 

They made many stops, as the old crone frequently bent down to pick things up. Once she held up a fat caterpillar right under Ahiru’s nose. 

The poor creature was dropped when Ahiru yelped. 

“Oh, chickens? Chickens dance and chickens sing, but I have a new way of listening to things!” The old crone sang when the gentle sound of Ahiru’s hens could be heard. “The cow, the cow! It produces milk, but how?” She asked, at the braying of Gelbvieh.

Ahiru slipped off her boots, and told the old crone to do the same, when she lifted the dirty hem of her many gowns, Ahiru saw that her feet were bare, and nearly black. 

Ahiru had her sit down at the table, and gave her food to occupy herself while Ahiru boiled water over the fire. 

It took a long time, and every once in while, the old crone would start singing again, but never the same song, until finally, Ahiru brought her to the tub. 

The old crone eyed the water warily, but Ahiru promised it was safe.

“See?” She said, putting her hand in. 

The dirty clothes in a pile, and the crone soaking in the tub - the water around her turned brown after a few minutes - Ahiru helped her brushed her matted hair, some of it had to be cut, and brought her soap when she required it. 

“I’m going to wash these clothes and find you some to wear in the meantime!” Ahiru said, taking, the stinking bundle of clothes into her arms. 

“Phew.” Ahiru said, when she reached the tub outside, filled it with cold water, soap, and dropped a washing board in. “She’s a lot of work!” She told the chickens, given that their coop resides next to the tub. 

Her clothes, however frayed and torn, turned out to be made of beautiful fabrics, and stunning colors. Even her shift had embroidered flowers lining the hem. There was a dress of periwinkle, and a soft fabric that looked like it used to be a vibrant mulberry, even her cloak, which took the brunt of the elements and dirt, had been a bright blue hiding under it all. 

She hung it all the dry and then turned back inside. 

She found the large trunk where father kept all of mother’s things, and looked for some clothes that wouldn’t be missed. 

_ Here I sit and here I sing.  _

_ And await the night that closes in.  _

_ Little know I my barin’s father. _

_ In this the land he dwells in. _

The old crone had a voice that was like an angel’s, and Ahiru listened to the song she hadn’t heard since childhood. 

_ He came one night into my bed. _

_ Both rough and smooth was he  _

_ Saying _

_ Will you take me for a lover  _

_ For your husband I ne’er can be. _

Ahiru’s hands rested on a faded yellow gown, it had been one of her mother’s favorites, but Ahiru knew it would bring out the color of the old crone’s eyes, so she laid it out. 

_ I am a man upon the land _

_ And I am a selkie of the sea.  _

_ And when I'm far, far from land _

_ My home _

_ It is in Skule Skerry. _

Ahiru found old shoes, and a pair of woolen socks, the toe was worn out, but the old crone had been bare foot before, surely she wouldn’t mind. 

_ It shall come to pass on a summer's day _

_ When the sun shines down on ever stone _

_ I'll come to fetch my little son _

_ And teach him to swim all in the foam. _

Ahiru was about to put it all away when she saw something shining at the bottom.

_ And a fine young man you shall marry _

_ A fine young man I'm sure he'll be _

_ And the very first time he goes a-hunting _

_ He'll shoot my little son and me _

Ahiru pushed aside the journals and her mother’s favorite teacup.

_ Here I sit and here I sing.  _

There, at the bottom was a white dress made from satin, and organza, pearls lined the bust and neckline, there was a small puff to the selves, as she pulled it out, where the satin ended, the organza continued to make a short train.

_ And await the night that’s closing in. _

Underneath, a pair of matching shoes, and with it a note. ~ _ My first ballgown, thank you, father. _

_ Little know I my barin’s father. _

Ahiru laid the gown out on her mother’s side of the bed, picked up the yellow dress and followed the singing back to the bathroom.

_ But it’s with him, my sorrows did begin. _

“You sing beautifully.” Ahiru said, holding a cloth to help the old crone dry. 

“Yes, it was an old song my husband brought back home with him. He would travel the world, and bring back songs to sing me to sleep.” She stepped out of the tub, the water nearly black. 

Ahiru brushed her hair again and braided it, pinning it to her head so that the still wet hair wouldn’t get her new dress too wet. 

“You know.” Ahiru said quietly, they stood in candlelight now, her brush making careful strokes through the old crone’s hair, she didn’t want to pull out any more hairs. “I still don’t know your name.”

“Do not be silly, of course you do.” 

“I wish I did. My name is Ahiru.”

“What a strange name. It sounds like a word my husband would bring back to teach me.” 

Ahiru asked the old woman to stay the night, and offered her a bed made up of pillows on the floor, but the old woman declined. 

She did not sleep well, and would hate to keep Ahiru up all night with her cries. 

Then, Ahiru was alone.

She wished she had written down the words to the song, she could only remember the first part, even now, after hearing the rest for the first time in fourteen years. 

Ahiru woke with the caw of the rooster. 

Bleary eyed, she woke up, swung her legs over the bed and stretched. 

Her tea was tasteless, her clothes never warm enough, and as she opened the door, a letter fell to the floor.

Ahiru bent down to pick it up. 

The paper was thick and weighty, made of good quality, it was a delicate cream, not blindingly white, and on it’s lips was a wax seal, a graceful swan, it’s neck wrapped around a sword. Inside was more of the beautifully made paper, with a message printed in golden ink.

_ To those who Reside in Here Town _

_ You are cordially invited to the Schwan’s Annual Midsummer Ball _

_ June the Twenty-First, beginning after sunset. _

It gave a proper address at the bottom, a call to wear her finest, and to meet the esteemed family in order to welcome them into their midst. 

Ahiru looked over her shoulder, the door to her father’s bedroom ajar, the dress gleamed in the darkness. 

It looked as if she would be attending a ball after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I realize that Ahiru probably wouldn't have been able to wash the clothes until they looked brand new, but she would have done the best she could and would have at least been able to like, you know, use her imagination.   
> *Gelbvieh is the name of a breed of cow in Germany.  
> *Her mother's ballgown is in fact a regency ballgown. Since clothes were tailormade it was rather expensive to get a new dress every time a ball came up. The dress the Old Crone/Woman has now is also a regency dress. Ahiru is wearing clothes that are a little bit more fashion forward simply because she would need clothes that fit her. She probably has a good amount of shifts, and then two or three good quality outer layers. And these layers are probably from the 1820s, and she's also a peasant and wouldn't be able to afford all the excess fabric.


	5. Chapter 5

January, 1831

⎈

The day was lovely due to the fact that the Schwan Manor was covered in dazzling snow and the sky was a misty blue.

Mytho would have loved nothing more than to put on his boots and take a walk in the cold, to come back inside shivering and spend the evening curled by the fire while mother played the piano.

But Mytho could not, he wasn’t even allowed to leave the room he was in.

Mandated by his father, Mytho was to start his apprenticeship.

How to make good investments and strike a deal with overzealous sellers. How to take command over those below you. How to be respected, and not feared, but respected nonetheless. 

Mytho didn’t care for such things, like his mother, he was much more an artist, a dreamer; unlike his father, who was a realist. 

Father was taking meetings all day, buying and selling, while the sunlit snow glittered in the daylight and called to Mytho sweetly. It was hard to pay attention with so many temptations. 

By the end of the day, father looked most pleased, shaking the hand of a middle-aged gentleman with much vigor. 

“My servant shall show you out.” His voice commanding. He clapped his hands together. “We’ve done it! Ha ha!”

Mytho smiled and nodded, as if he had been paying attention all day. 

“We shall tell your mother the happy news at supper! Come, come son! You should be dancing where you stand!” 

“Of course father.” Mytho said. “So, the day was successful?”

His father’s smile faltered and he sighed. “Oh my son,” His hand clapped Mytho’s shoulder, his head shaking lightly. “I should have closed those curtains, well, not much to do about it now.”

Mytho waited, but father said nothing.

“Uh, go get prepared for supper, I will tell you along with you mother.” He smirked in a fatherly manner. “As punishment for not paying attention.”

Mytho gave a bashful smile as he excused himself from the room and followed the sounds of graceful piano music. 

Mytho knelt beside the piano, his mother’s hands never stopping, “Yes, my dear?” 

“I’ve come to collect you for supper, unless your music fills your stomach as well as your heart?”

“Oh, tosh.” She shook her head. “I will appear in the proper evening attire at seven o’clock.”

“And pray you shan’t be late.”

“No, whatever would be done to me should I be late?”

Mytho pretended to consider, “I think a good hour in the stocks would teach you.”

“Oh, but my poor neck!” She said, finally stopping and putting the music away, she stood gracefully and took her son’s arm as he escorted her out of the room. 

“A good lashing would teach you.” He patted her hand.

“Oh, but think of my porcelain skin!” Her hand caressed her cheek.

“A good night locked in the tallest tower.” They turned a corner, her personal servants opening the doors. They stopped and turned to face one another.

“And sing and sing until my prince comes to rescue me?” She smiled, the corners of her eyes crowing. “I think that will do, my charming young man.”

Mytho smiled as his mother left his side, and he went to his own chambers changing his waistcoat to one more festive and returned to his mother’s chamber door to escort her to dinner. 

She took his elbow once more, dressed in the latest fashion, a perfect sea blue. She winked.

“What have you done all day?” 

“I couldn’t tell you, mother of mine, I was too busy looking out the window.”

She chuckled, “Your father will be cross, my dear.”

“Don’t fret, he has already punished me by making me wait for the happy news.”

“Ah! So he was successful! How joyous.” 

“Even you know?”

Mother’s smile broadened, “I pay attention to the news your father shares, but I shall obey my husband, and keep this secret until he reveals it to us.”

So much like his mother, to choose his father and her husband over himself. 

Father looked well, he wore his best evening dress as he held out his hand for his wife to take, bending at the waist to kiss it. She blushed like a young girl.

Mytho pulled out his own chair and had dinner, waiting for father to bring it up, whatever it was, but all he and mother did was talk about the sea.

“Long walks on the beach!” His mother said dreamily. “A window open to admire the sun setting over the ocean, oh how truly splendid it would be!” 

“A small and quaint town, not too far from the city, so you can still buy your finery. Quiet, so that we may go about the day in peace.”

“It sounds idyllic. Doesn’t it, Mytho?”

Mytho smiled, “Are we planning a trip?” 

They smiled at one another. 

But his father cleared his throat, he stood and a servant ran to get out a bottle of brandy. “Son, for many months I have been planning to expand my empire, to go beyond this town. We’ve brought silk from China, gold and salt from Africa, but the one place that we have not touched, is across the sea.” 

Mytho felt his brows narrow, the pieces fitting together in his head. 

“I have had the fortune of running some competition into the ground,” He paused, taking the crystal glass into his hand, and Mytho found one before himself. “And out of mercy and kindness, I have bought an armada of ships bound for the Americas. Soon, Germany will have the cheapest sugar and coffee they can get their hands on.” 

Mother clapped, and took a sip before father’s toast was over. 

“To keep an eye on our new purchase, and I do mean ‘ours’, son, we shall go to where our ships keep port, on the western coast of Germany.” He raised his arm. “To America!”

“To America!” Mother echoed and they both drank.

And then, turned to him expectantly.

There was an excitement that was flowing through his veins, something alive in his heart, beating wildly. He lifted his glass, “I’ve never seen the ocean. To America!” 

June, 1831

⎈

Ahiru finished drying the old woman’s clothes, and folded them neatly into her basket. 

The satin dress still laying innocently on the bed, she didn’t have the heart to put it away, it was too lovely to be hidden. 

And, the more Ahiru thought of it, she realized it would be the only gown suitable for such an event. 

The money her father made was not her own, and without his permission, she would be unable to buy a gown for the ball. 

Her friends had mostly bought new fabric to make their dresses, and Evangeline had even put in an order with the seamstress. 

It seemed like a lot of fun too, Miss. Raetsel was even going as far as adding embroidery around all the hems and necklines. Her fabric, which she had shown to Ahiru last week, was a perfect shade of violet. 

“I almost used my bedsheets, but Hans decided it would be much cheaper to let me buy the appropriate amount of fabric.” She smiled, pulling her needle through; sewing impeccable.

Ahiru sat down next to the old woman, handing her a loaf of bread, and a cup of fresh milk. 

“I have your clothes for you.” She supplied.

The old woman didn’t seem to recognize her, or even her clothes, but put them all on anyway. Her face was still clean, and her hair was worn just as a braid down her back, the chucks of hair that Ahiru had to cut away much more visible now that some of it had grown back, flipping around her ears, and close to her neck. It seemed her teeth struggled to tear apart the bread, so at one point, she ripped off small pieces with her fingers and dipped it in milk. 

Today, they sat across from the dress shop, and in the window she saw premade gowns being tailored to fit the girls on the pedestals, a dress form in the back had half a dress on it. 

Ahiru sighed. 

“Oh dear, must be a storm brewing.” The old woman muttered, her mouth full of soggy bread. 

“Hmm?”

“Thunder! Lightning! In the sky, look!” 

Ahiru saw nothing, but nodded anyway. 

“There is pain! So much pain, that is why the sky cries.” Then, with clear blue eyes, she asked, “Why do you cry, my dear?” 

Ahiru flinched away. “I-I- I don’t!”

“White clouds, wispy and pale break through the storm, but that is just the calm, tell me, tell me!”

Ahiru pursed her lips. “I wish… I wish I could afford a new dress like everyone else, but I’m afraid that, if I do get a new dress, that papa will be very cross with me for wasting money.” She was fiddling with her fingers now. 

“Shimmering, a pearl! Pick it up!” She pointed at the ground, and there was a round pebble. “Oh yes! A glimmering, pale pearl amidst the brightly colored jewels.”

Ahiru picked up the pearl- pebble- and held it in her hand.

“I have my mother’s dress, but… I don’t know which would make my father more upset.”

“Oh my dear, hide it back where it was found, clamp the oyster shut, and not even he would be able to find its brilliant light at the bottom of the ocean floor.”

“So, I shouldn’t even tell him?” 

The old crone had tipped her milk cup into her mouth and gulped down the rest. 

“More? More?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s all I brought.”

The old crone blinked, before rising and limping down the street, holding out the tin milk cup to strangers, asking, “More, more?” 

Ahiru sighed, in the window there were no dresses like the one on her bed, the puffed and cinched, and even the palest color was vivid in comparison. 

⎈

June twenty-first came soon than she would have liked, and early in the morning, after she had finished with the chickens and the cow, she stared at the dress. 

She had dug more into the box and found elbow length gloves, and an organza shawl with beading that matched too perfectly to belong to anything else. 

She wished she had someone to help her get ready. 

Ahiru started with a bath, and washed away the grime. Her hair she brushed and tried to replicate the pinned hairstyle she had given the old woman, but it was much harder to do on herself. 

She had a wooden hair comb for decoration, and until now she hadn’t worried about it matching. She bit her lip and wondered if she should just go without. 

It was getting later in the day when she came back to her mother’s bedside, in only her shift and stays, her gaze fixed on the pearl dress. 

Wondering, once more if she should even wear it. 

It fit her like a glove, but the shoes she had to stuff. There was something warm and inviting about the material, it slipped easily over her legs, she felt excitement course through her as she observed the dress. 

There was no mirror long enough to check herself in to make sure that everything was in its place, and again she had no one to make sure all was well. 

Ahiru donned the brown cloak, she held her shoes in one hand, and gathered the length of her dress in the other. Wobbling, she stuck her feet into her boots, and began walking. 

It was cold, the layers thin, and her hands occupied she couldn’t tighten her cloak around herself. 

It was easy to find the estate of the newcomers, as Ahiru joined the crowds all walking in the same direction. 

She was happy to see that she wasn’t the only one dressed out of fashion, some mothers and grandmothers wearing their finest ball gowns from thirty years prior. 

Then, she saw the manor.

Against the night sky, it looked like the full moon. 

She could hear the music, she could see the great ponds filled with sleeping swans, she could smell the vast amount of food that had been prepared, and even as she walked in the cold night air, she felt the heat of a night of dancing. 

Her heart swelled as she got closer to the pearly gates, welcomed in by bowing servants, they offered to take her cloak and she let them. 

Already, the air was filled with laughter, friends talking, others walking and observing the grounds for themselves. 

Ahiru herself walked in a trance, her skirt in her hands as she beamed, wide-eyed, at the manor.

“Ouch!” 

Ahiru jumped, she had stepped on something, and then that something had cried out. 

“I’m so sorry!”

“No, no it's alright.” 

“What did I step on?”

“My foot.”

“I’m so sorry!”

The young man chuckled, and brought her eyes up to his face, and her mouth fell open. 

He smiled kindly at her, but his eyes were so lonely, and despite his handsome face, she couldn’t ignore the great depths of his eyes. Never had she seen such sorrow before. 

“It’s alright, I forgive you.” He bowed. “My name is Mr. Schwan.”

Her face flushed. “M-Mr. Schwan?”

His head tilted, “Yes, and your name?” 

“Miss. Alder.” She said, giving him a hasty bow. 

He chuckled again, “Better not let my mother catch you doing that, she’ll make you take lessons until you can curtsy properly in your sleep. And, of course, teach you the proper footwear.”

Ahiru looked down, still wearing her muddy boots. “Oh! Of course, I’m such a scatterbrain!” She gave a tittering laugh before kicking off her boots, placing her mother’s shoes on the ground and stepping into them, only reaching out to grab onto Mr. Schwan’s shoulder for balance once. 

“Ah! I’m so sorry!”

He laughed, “Don’t worry about it, Miss. Alder. Say, would you care to dance?”

She perked up, because, truthfully, that’s all she wanted to do, but “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Don’t worry, just follow my steps.” 

Ahiru smiled, and took his proffered elbow. 

Mr. Schwan bowed to her, and she did her best to curtsy, tucking her foot behind her ankle, and she wobbled all the way down and all the way up until her foot was back on the ground. 

And then, they danced. 

Ahiru had danced as a child, jumping and spinning when her mother sang a jolly song, or with the school children when they sang their schoolyard choruses, but never had Ahiru waltzed. 

“Follow my lead.” He whispered to her, his hand on her waist, making her blush, her other hand held gently by his, if not for their gloves, her skin would be pressed to his most scandalously. 

At times she would look down at her feet, but their bodies were so close together that all she saw was his chest, so when he told her to look up, his eyes met her blushing face. 

There was a moment, when her shoulders loosened, and her feet moved with less hesitation, that Mr. Schwan let go of her waist and spun her like a top, when she stopped she was laughing, and it was so infectious that he began to smile as well. 

The song ended and they separated, she joined the applause, but Mr. Schwan stole her hand and affixed it to his elbow once more as they left the veranda and another song began to play. 

“You’ve must have lived here your whole life.” Mr Schwan said, they had separated, keeping their hands to themselves and a good foot apart. He led her away from the party on the front lawn and led her down a moonlit path around the gardens. From here she could hear the distant sounds of the ocean. “It must have been fascinating.”

“Well, not really.”

“No?”

Ahiru shook her head. “My mother passed when I was young, my father took it hard, he still grieves, and I am left mostly alone.”

The sorrow had returned to his eyes, but now it blanketed his whole face. “I’m so sorry that such an awful fate befell you.”

Ahiru shook her head. “But I love the sea. Just as my mother did, there are too many days where I simply sit on the rocks and stare out at sea.” 

Mr. Schwan nodded. “I couldn’t imagine losing my own mother.” 

“It’s challenging.” Ahiru agreed, but then she smiled. “Where have you lived before now?”

“In Bavaria, in a great city, but I hated it there.” He looked over at her, to gauge her reaction. “I wanted to live where I could be free to do whatever I wanted, to ride horses, and take long walks, to dance.”

“You like dancing then?” But even as the words left her lips she regretted them, of course he loved dancing!

“Oh I love it! I’ve studied ballet since I was a child, if I had it my way-” He stopped, looking down at his feet. 

Ahiru paused too, and looked back at him. “Will you dance for me?”

“What?”

Ahiru blushed and looked away, “I’ve never seen ballet before. I only know that the dancers go on tiptoe and it sounds like it really hurts.”

Mytho laughed and shook his head, “Oh no, no. Well, it does for the first few times, but a ballerina builds up the muscles in her legs, in her ankles, in her very feet so that she’s strong enough to support herself, only on an unpracticed foot does it hurt.” 

“You don’t go on point, Mr. Schwan?” Ahiru asked. 

“No, as a male dancer, I perform lifts and grand jetes.” 

“Lifts? Grand jetes?” Ahiru smiled, confused. 

“Like this.” Mr. Schwan strode forward, wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting her into the air, high above his head, and for a moment, it felt like she was flying. 

Her hands instantly rested on his, and when she realized that he was touching her again, she looked down, and in his eyes she saw it too. 

But what it was, her heart wouldn’t tell her. 

He let her back down slowly, her body almost sliding down his, but she never looked away, and neither did he. 

He was panting slightly, his hands still on her waist, as her feet touched the floor, their bodies too close together. 

Ahiru stepped away, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re quite strong, Mr. Schwan.”

“I must be, for the sake of the woman I hold in my arms.” 

“The hour grows late, will you walk me to the gate, sir?”

“Of course.” 

Mr. Schwan walked with her, but the space between their bodies was smaller than it was before, and even with their hands behind their backs, their arms brushed up against each other. 

“Why don’t I order a carriage to take you home?” He asked as a servant retrieved her cloak.

“Oh, no, that’s too much to ask for.” She shook her head. 

“I shall go fetch you a carriage, wait here.” 

As he left, he fisted his hands at his side; she felt her waist burning. 

The servant returned with the cloak, and she fastened it, but did as Mr. Schwan had instructed and waited. 

An opulent carriage came before the gate, and Mr. Schwan was beside her once more. 

“Forgive me for making you wait.” He said, the coachmen had stepped down to open her door, but still he held her hand as she climbed inside. “I pray that I’ll see you again.”

“Yes.” Was all she could say, absolutely breathless. 

The few people that had stayed as late as she watched with curious eyes trying to figure out just who had been escorted into the carriage, but the door shut before any could get a good glimpse. 

Ahiru licked her lips and fell back against the cushions. 

The palm of her hand burned.

The next morning, her boots were delivered to her door, polished and waxed, with a note pinned through one of the lace holes. 

_My Lady,_

_I searched for these all night, for you had kicked them under a bush._

_~ Mr. Mytho S. Schwan_

_P.S. My mother has invited you over for afternoon tea this coming Monday, if you would be so kind as to attend, it would truly make her day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes, this will be about mermaids soon, I promise


	6. Chapter 6

June, 1831

⎈

“Ahiru, please I insist!” 

Ahiru smiled and shook her head. “I couldn’t take the dress you worked so hard on, Mrs. Raetsel.”

Besides, there were a couple of areas that Ahiru wouldn’t be able to fill out…

Mrs. Raetsel bit her lip. “Well, I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Raetsel, but I think I’d feel more uncomfortable wearing something that wasn’t my own.”

Ahiru had invited Mrs. Raetsel over for tea on Sunday, since Mrs. Schwan had asked for Monday. At first, Ahiru wanted to refuse for Mrs. Raetsel’s sake, but she wouldn’t have it. According to Mrs. Raetsel this was a great opportunity to move her way up the social ladder, and Mrs. Raetsel immediately offered Ahiru the dress she made for the ball. 

“Why don’t I come over in the morning and help you get ready, just to make sure that everything is perfect?” Mrs. Raetsel asked, more nervous about this meeting than Ahiru was. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Raetsel, but I think that may be unnecessary.” Ahiru smiled, her hand covered Mrs. Raetsel’s, and she turned her hand over to better hold the young woman’s. 

“Oh, Ahiru, you are so much like your mother. Stay the night with us, so you don't have to walk all the way and get mud on your skirt, I’ll come up in the morning to feed the chicken’s and collect the eggs and milk. Don’t you dare protest, I demand this of you.” 

Ahiru smiled, and relented. 

Mrs. Raetsel helped Ahiru put together her finest clothes. 

She held up a skirt that was buttery yellow. 

“I have a crinoline that will fit right under that.” Mrs. Raetsel said, her hand coming up to touch it. “Make it much more fashionable for the Lady.” 

She winked at Ahiru. 

⎈

Her skirt didn’t touch the floor, it came up above her ankle, revealing her old shoes made for work rather than fashion, and the awful embroidery on her stockings. 

Ahiru waited in a sunlit hall, fiddling with the lace gloves that Mrs. Raetsel shoved on her hands before she left, and she couldn’t remember if she was supposed to remove her bonnet once she was inside.

There was no one at the gate when she arrived and she had a deep sickness in her gut, her head spinning, she wasn’t supposed to be here, they only invited her here to laugh at her from a safe distance away. But, then a young man ran up and, panting, opened up the gate with as much dignity as he could manage. Apparently she was an hour early. He escorted her up the gravel driveway, the grand mansion looked different in the sunlight, larger and more intimidating.

The servant - Robert - asked her to wait in the foyer while he fetched Mrs. Schwan. 

She was starting to get more nervous, and perhaps Mrs. Raetsel was right, maybe she should have tried to look more presentable. 

“Miss. Alder.”

Ahiru’s head jerked to her right, the door had opened revealing a grand hallway, and there was Mrs. Schwan.

They were matching. 

Mrs. Schwan’s dress was pure cotton (no doubt about it) a warm sunshine yellow, with crisp white lace, her simple necklace a pale gold. 

She was simply extravagant. 

“Oh please, you don’t have to keep that thing on inside.” Mrs. Schwan said, standing only a few feet away from the frightened girl. Her eyes moved to the bonnet. “I hate those dreadful things. All that work making my hair look as gorgeous as it does and I have to cover it with a bonnet? Henry!”

She called, and a servant suddenly appeared at her side. 

“Take her bonnet and her gloves to the coatroom and have them ready at her departure.” 

Mrs. Schwan put her hand on Ahiru’s shoulder, applying the lightest pressure, and urged her forward through sunlit halls. 

“I am so glad that the ball worked the way I had designed.” Mrs. Schwan held her head high. “My son has his heads in the clouds, he looks up to the sky rather than watching where he’s going.” She chuckled lightly, “People often don’t understand him, and he often doesn’t understand other people, you know the kind, with both feet on the ground.  _ How can someone not go through life with music in their hearts.  _ He used to say. In here, my dear.”

Mrs. Schwan gestured to the room as two servants opened the French doors for her, and there, in a circular room, half the walls made from windows, was a small table set for tea. As Ahiru made her way in, examining the room that was larger than her own house, she looked out the windows and got a beautiful view of the grounds, and more importantly, the ocean. 

“I hope you don’t mind that the tea will be in just a few moments, we weren’t expecting you quite so soon.” Mrs. Schwan winked. She stood until a servant pulled out her chair and she sat down with so much grace it was effortless. 

“Um, thank you so much, Mrs. Schwan, for inviting me over. I had such a pleasant time at the ball!” Ahiru sat down, a little less gracefully, but she at least didn’t trip over her own two feet. 

Maidservants came and filled her plate with little cakes and sandwiches, and a moment later a woman came in with a steaming teapot. 

“Aw, wonderful.” Mrs. Schwan thanked the woman named Hilda. “How do you take your tea, Miss. Alder?”

“Normally I take it plain.” - because sugar was a luxury - “But I like it sweet.” 

“Perfect.” Mrs. Schwan paused as a servant moved to offer Ahiru the sugar bowl, putting in cube after cube until Ahiru told her to stop. “I hope you like this blend, a friend of mine from Bavaria makes the most wonderful tea blends, none of that nasty Earl Grey.”

A servant made Mrs. Scwhan’s tea perfect to her preference while she enjoyed a white and pink frosted cake.

Ahiru reminded herself that she had an entire plate to try, and before she could make a decision, Mrs. Schwan told her to try her tea. 

“Yes!” Ahiru obeyed, her hands reaching out to take the cup, but her fumbling hands knocked the tea cup over, and spilled onto the white tablecloth. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

But Mrs. Schwan laughed. “Oh my dear, do forgive me! I make you quite nervous don’t I?” 

“Huh?” Ahiru’s eyes widened as she looked at Mrs. Schwan, completely unbothered by the fact that Ahiru had ruined her tablecloth. 

“Come with me, dear.” Mrs. Schwan stood, stopping to take a sip from her cup before placing it back in it’s saucer. “Hilda, please remove the tablecloth, we will return shortly.”

“Shall I replace it, ma’am?”

“No thank you, should either my guest or myself,” She winked at Ahiru, “Spill again it will be much easier to clean that way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A servant opened the doors and Mrs. Schwan led Ahiru down another hall, there were portraits on the wall, generations upon generations of Schwan’s. 

When Mrs. Schwan stopped, there was no servant to open the door, and so she reached out herself.

It was a dark room, given that it was in the center of the house and thus had no windows, bookshelves covered every wall, and there was a small reading table in the center of the room.

“I wasn’t always the proud and noble Mrs. Schwan you see today, when I was young,” She sighed, “Oh when I was young, I was nothing but the daughter of a farmer, when I meet my husband, Mr. Schwan, I was coerced into having tea with his mother.” 

Mrs. Schwan walked forward to the one bookshelf that didn’t display books, but instead small knick knacks. A tiny china teacup, white and blue, was front and center before being plucked from its place. Mrs. Schwan turned it around and placed it in Ahiru’s hands, and there, on the rim, was a large chip, and a crack ran down to the base. 

“I did exactly what you did, my trembling hands knocking the cup over instead of picking it up. I believed that in her eyes, I would never be the perfect lady she wanted her son to marry, but here I am.” She raised her arm, the palm of her hand gentle on Ahiru’s cheek. “Shall we go finish our little tea party?”

Ahiru smiled and nodded, handing the tea cup back. 

The tablecloth gone, Ahiru didn’t spill her tea again, but Mrs. Schwan did, and Hilda was quick to tidy it up. Mrs. Schwan laughed, her cheeks red and she claimed embarrassment. 

Somehow, Mrs. Schwan made Ahiru tell her everything about her life, and it came pouring out of her like a river. 

It was simple, it was easy, as if she had been waiting for this moment. 

Mrs. Schwan showed sympathy and compassion, but it never felt like pity.

Mrs. Schwan walked her back to the sunlit foyer, the sun touching the horizon. The servant stood ready with her bonnet and gloves. 

Mrs. Schwan touched her cheek once more with the tips of her fingers. “Should you ever need me at all, I will be right here.”

Ahiru smiled, her eyes felt misty, but she was glad that she had come after all. 

July, 1831

⎈

Ahiru was grateful that her visit to see Mrs. Scwhan wasn’t made widely known and that she wasn’t the subject of gossip for the next few weeks, instead, everyone was still talking about the ball. 

Even Mrs. Amontadilo, who despite her old age, still danced the night away. 

Ahiru had nearly forgotten the ball in her haste to prepare for tea with Mrs. Schwan that she hadn’t had the proper amount of time to savour every moment of what had happened, even the embarrassing ones. 

When Ahiru closed her eyes, and imagined Mr. Schwan’s eyes in the moonlight, her heart swelled with the immeasurable feeling of what could only be described as love.

And, suddenly, she imagined herself married to Mr. Schwan, happily in love, in a bed with warm blankets, in a house that didn’t move with the wind, never waiting months for his return. Then she wondered if he loved her. 

It was too soon to tell, they had only just met, after all. 

Ahiru sighed, looking down at the dress she wore that night, she cleaned it to the best of her abilities, and it was perfectly dry, but Ahiru was afraid to put it away, afraid that once she locked the dress away again, everything would fade away. Back to how it once was, and her only choice was to die an old maid, or be forced to wait. 

Ahiru couldn’t decide which was worse. 

But as Ahiru’s hands struggled between holding it for safekeeping and laying it out on the bed for forever and a day, there was a knock at the door. 

Who could that be?

“Miss. Alder?”

Her heart stopped, it was Mr. Schwan, but why was he here! 

“I apologize for the rudeness my sudden appearance makes, but I needed to talk with you, if you had but a moment.” 

Ahiru threw the dress, her throat was making strange noises of panic, and she began running around trying to tidy, falling a few times. She ran to the door to answer, but then ran back to shut the door to her bedroom. 

She dusted her dress and opened the door. 

“Mr. Schwan!” She smiled and invited him in.

He held up his hand. “No, I believe it is too improper, I was thinking that perhaps a walk would be more preferable.” 

Ahiru panted, “Oh. Yes, let me grab-” She drifted off as she walked back to her room and picked up her shawl, it was a strange color against her skirt, but seeing as her white one rested on the old woman’s shoulders, Ahiru had but little choice. 

Ahiru closed the door and they walked side by side, much too close, just as they had on the night of the ball.

They walked away from town, following the dirt road that grew more and more wild. 

“My mother, ah-” Mr. Schwan paused and pursed his lips. “That is to say, my mother enjoyed having tea with you. And rather encouraged me to keep you in my heart.” 

Ahiru blushed, her eyes on her feet as she nodded softly. “You’re mother was lovely.”

“She asked me to enter into courtship with you.”

“QUA-” Ahiru slapped a hand to her mouth, embarrassed at her shout of surprise. “Cour-courtship? With  _ me _ ?” 

“I know it’s quite sudden.” Mr. Schwan stopped, and took her hand, his back to the endless sky.  _ My son has his heads in the clouds.  _ “And believe me, I would give you all the time in the world, and if you feel that at any point, I am not suited to take your hand in holy matrimony, I will understand.” 

“Mr. Schwan, I understand completely, but…” Ahiru tore her eyes away from him. “Do you wish to enter courtship with me because this is of your own will, or because your mother-” 

“Miss. Alder, do you know why my mother asked you to tea?”

Ahiru shook her head.

Mr. Schwan took her face gently in his hand until she looked at him again. “Because I asked her to. I wanted- no I needed her to guide me in this decision. I have never… No woman has ever captured my heart the way you have captured mine.”

“Then, I have no doubts.”

Mr. Schwan smiled warmly, he looked as if he wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he pulled away and bowed to her instead. “Then, this meeting is most improper.”

“Most.” Ahiru agreed, the broad grin forming on her face. 

“Completely isolated, with no chaperone. Our next meeting must be in a more public space.”

“Of course, Mr. Schwan.”

He offered her his arm, and she took it, they laughed too much to talk as they returned her to her cottage, and before he left her at her doorstep they gazed into the other’s eyes and leaned in, only breaking apart when one of her chickens gave a loud cry.

Blushing madly, she waved and watched him walk down the road until he disappeared. 

Ahiru leaned against her door, her hand over her beating heart, so it was not a dream after all. 

August, 1831

⎈

“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this a secret for a month!” Evangeline scolded, her tea cold in her hands, unable to drink as she was scolding Ahiru for not telling her sooner. “We have a wedding to prepare for! Oh, such little time! What color will your wedding gown be? Mine was blue, of course, but I imagine a golden yellow would look so nicely on your skin and with his eyes, don’t you agree?”

Ahiru laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of her head. “Oh no, I don’t think we’ll be getting married very soon.” 

“Now, if you don’t mind, Miss. Alder.” Mrs. Amontdilo said sharply. “Pass me the butter.” 

Ahiru looked awkwardly at the butter that was closest to her second child, rather than herself. Ahiru stood and walked around the table to fetch it for her.

“I mean, could you imagine how insensible a young girl would have to be to enter into another courtship while still involved with the first?” Mrs. Amontillado shook her head. “The audacity! And he doesn’t even know it yet! Oh his poor heart when he finds out the woman he loves is a lowly, vile slippery snake?” 

Ahiru placed the butter in front of Mrs. Amontillado. “There you are.” she said softly, trying not to get too angry with Mrs. Amontillado, after all she had spent many years believing Ahiru would become her daughter. 

“You won’t believe all the angry letters I’ve received from girls who lost their opportunity to win Mr. Schwan’s heart to you, Ahiru, so many people are jealous!” 

Ahiru nodded, wishing she didn’t feel so guilty after last night’s supper.

“Hey, I’m only joking, really, a lot of these girls are fairly young, they never stood a real chance!” Hermia frowned. 

“No, it’s alright.” Ahiru said, but didn’t explain further. 

“But hey! This young girl said she danced twice with a young man she met at the ball! That’s lovely, isn’t it?”

Ahiru smiled, “It does sound lovely.” 

“Ahiru, dear, you have to promise me that you’ll fetch me all the best deals from those new trading ships!” Mrs. Thompson said, and no matter who Ahiru spoke to, that was all they asked. 

Assuming that, once Ahiru married Mr. Schwan, she would somehow be in charge of the traded goods. 

Ahiru smiled and nodded, assuring them that she would do what she could, even if she was sure that wasn’t a lot. 

Eventually, she sat down at the curb, today, the old woman was gone, so Ahiru had no one to chat with. 

The Old Woman was a relief, unlike everyone else, the Old Woman had no knowledge of town gossip. 

Normally, gossip was about other people, Ahiru wasn’t too sure if she liked the fact that her name was being passed around from everybody’s lips. She wondered, for half a second, if she could confide in Mr. Schwan, and tell him the troubles of her heart. 

September, 1831

⎈

Everyday, Mr. Schwan sent her flowers, usually red roses, sometimes in large bouquets, and others just a single rose tied with a pale white ribbon. They were beautiful, but Ahiru had too many roses, more than she knew what to do with. 

The first rose he had sent was precious, and she wanted to save it, so she pressed it in papa’s atlas. The next day, when twelve came, she put them in an empty jar on the table.

Everyday, since their courtship was made public, did Mr. Schwan send her roses, and now it had been thirty days and he had started sending her lilacs, and then tulips, until every spare inch was covered in flowers. 

In her arms, she gathered up all the flowers that had died, she was going to take them out and throw them over the cliff and into the sea.

As she opened the door, Mr. Amontadilo raised his arm to knock and almost hit her nose. 

“Mr. Amontadilo!” Ahiru shouted, losing her grip on the dead flowers. 

Dylan blinked, his eyes red, in his hand was a small white daisy. “Miss.- Miss. Alder, I couldn’t believe what my mother said to be true, but I see now.” His hand fell.

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!”Ahiru shifted her arms until she could reach out and place her hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Please, you must have known?” 

“I had hoped... “ He rubbed his neck. “I had hoped that one day, you would realize that I was standing before you. I see now that I could never compare to Mr. Schwan.”

Ahiru smiled. “Oh, Mr. Amontadilo, no one could ever compare to you. The truth is, I don’t think I would have ever been able to love you the way you needed to be loved, and you deserve better than that.” 

Dylan blinked and wiped his eyes, then he held out his hands. “Allow me, Miss. Alder, one last favor.”

Ahiru smiled, and allowed him to take the dead flowers. She followed him to the cliffside where he let the flowers fall into the foam, lastly, he let the daisy fall from his grip. 

“I’m sorry I upset you so greatly, in truth I had prayed that you day you would simply move on.” Ahiru kept her eyes on the water, watching the reds and pinks, the singular white, dance and drift out. 

“In truth, I clung to you because of that childness love. My mother convinced me that you would gladly marry me and I thought, well, I foolishly believed that you would. I never wondered if I would have gladly married you.” He smiled. “I wish you and Mr. Schwan every happiness. Good evening.” 

Dylan Amontadilo slouched more than bowed, but left with a grin on his lips, even if there were still tears in his eyes. 

Ahiru stayed at the edge of the cliff, her eyes straining to follow the many flowers. Oddly enough, the easiest to spot was always the little daisy, until it was too far away to see.

September, 1831

⎈

It was starting to get colder, Ahiru put on her woolen stockings and put on her long sleeved chemise, the chickens, of course, were huddled inside their nests and it wasn’t the first time Ahiru wished she could bring them inside, or even into the stable, but it was barely big enough for Gelbvieh, who occupied it, and at least had a cover made from Ahiru’s old blanket. 

Ahiru entered the house with cold milk and cold eggs, and worked on warming her fingers by the fire before she prepared her breakfast. 

Today was book day, and despite the chill, Ahiru was eager to head out as soon as she could to pick up a new-used book for the month. 

She had finished  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ a few weeks ago since it was so short, and while she enjoyed Shakespeare, she wanted to find something a little bit longer this time. 

Ahiru sat by the fire a while longer, gathering up her courage to face the cold again, knowing that it would warm up by the afternoon and set out. 

It was still dark out as she trudged along the cliff trail, her quick pace created some heat, but the tips of her ears and the end of her nose still got bitten. 

But as the sun rose steadily into the sky, Ahiru reached the bookshop just as the owner unlocked the door.

“Ah, good morning.” He said. “Come for another book?”

“Mmhmm.” Ahiru nodded, the store was warmed by a small furnace, and she instantly felt better as she walked inside. 

She walked over to the section she left off at. 

There was  _ The Hunchback of Notre Dame, _ which seemed too long, and when Ahiru opened it, was still in French.

There were, of course, several copies of different plays by William Shakespeare, and Jane Austen.

Then, there was a small book that caught her eye, short and red and thick, but faded and old, the gilded gold title was worn off and she couldn’t even read the imprint that was left. She pulled it off the shelf, the cover itself was blank, but as she opened it the title read  _ The Life, Adventures, and Piracy of the Famous Captain Siegfried.  _

Ahiru could hardly remember ever seeing this book before, it seemed old, like at any moment it would fall apart in her hands, but she took it to the counter anyway, and held onto it tightly. 

The bell rang as she opened the door and stepped out, forgetting that it was so cold, she almost screamed when the Old Woman stood before her. 

“Oh, good morning.” Ahiru said, her hand on her chest, she put her hand on the Old Woman’s elbow and led her away from the store front. “I don’t think he’ll like it all that much if you just stand there blocking the door!”

The Old Woman sang underneath her breath. 

“You know, my father should be returning soon, and then I can introduce him to the Schwans! Once that happens,” Ahiru paused, making the Old Woman pause with her, “Well, once that happens Mr. Schwan may ask for my hand.”

The Old Woman didn’t say anything, pieces of her hair growing longer, sticking out in awkward places. She only looked to the sky.

Ahiru said nothing more, but walked the Old Woman to her curb. “Can I buy you some tea?” 

“Soon to the south, I must fly.” The Old Woman said, holding out her arms as if they were wings. 

Ahiru blinked. “Wha-”

“Look! Look! The snow! It covers me and freezes me!” She started to shiver, although she was fine before. 

“Wait-”

The Old Woman stood again, her shoulders shaking, “Death comes to those who remain stagnant! Hide, hide! Hide away from the bitter frost!” And began walking down the street. 

Ahiru chased after her, trying to get the Old Woman to speak more frankly, but then, they reached the end of town. Ahiru stopped, her eyes hovering over open fields and a road that led south. 

“What about your husband!” Ahiru called, but to no avail, the Old Woman kept walking until she vanished behind the tall grass. 

September, 1831

⎈

Ahiru waited everyday for the Old Woman to return, but she never did. She had gone south, and Ahiru had to deal with the fact that she may never see the Old Woman again, or know if she was still alive.

It was better this way, at least when papa returned she wouldn’t have to tell him she had donated mama’s old clothes to her. 

Tonight was the night when her father returned, and as much as Ahiru wanted to wait by the fire, she knew it was wisest to go to sleep in her bed. 

Father returned during the night, his big boots by the door, and when Ahiru woke in the morning, he was at the fireplace, cracking eggs into a cast iron. 

“Good morning.” He said.

“Good morning.”

Papa made her eggs, and toasted a loaf of bread, slathered it with butter and let her eat first while he was still making his meal.

His eyes never left the fireplace, but there was shame on his shoulders, and Ahiru knew this was his way of apologizing.

“Thank you.” was all she said. 

October, 1831

⎈

Father left a week after his return, but not before hearing the good news, and especially not before the Scwhan’s invited him and his daughter over for supper. 

Mrs. Schwan was a good hostess, never letting the conversation fall, especially since papa was a man of few words. 

And before papa left, he asked Ahiru if this was something she genuinely wanted.

“Papa, I know that they’re rich, and grand, and extravagant, but Mr. Schwan, I mean, Mr. Schwan’s son, loves me, and wants to take care of me.” Ahiru fiddled with her hands, Papa was supposed to be getting into the boat now. “I think that I could have a future with him.” 

Papa nodded. “If that is what you want, and if that is what he wants, than I-”

“Liam! Come on, man!” 

Papa sighed, he kissed Ahiru’s forehead. “If this is what you want then who am I to deny you your happiness?”

Ahiru felt the corners of her eyes start to tickle, and she wrapped her arms around her father’s neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

December, 1831

⎈

“Her father returns soon. It will be most wise to ask for his blessing.”

Mytho looked out a window, his head held up by his hand, Mrs. Schwan was drinking tea from her favorite china cup. 

“Son, did you hear me?”

“Yes, mother.”

“We shall have a summer wedding. In June. Unless she wants a Spring wedding in April” She sighed. “Mytho, I know that look, pray tell, what is going on inside of your mind?”

Mytho sighed, pulling away from the window, he kept his hands in his lap. “Mother, I just wonder if she herself is ready for this next step.”

“She shall be one and twenty in the spring, I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

Mytho nodded, but still he thought of her, her wants and desires, the feelings she confessed to him, in his eyes she wasn’t ready to be a wife. 

_ “Don’t you think it would be grand to go somewhere?” _

_ “Go somewhere?” _

_ “Go somewhere!” _

_ “Go where?” _

_ “There’s a whole world I’ve never seen! People I’ve never met.” She smiled, her head tilted as she daydreamed, her face lit golden in the fading sunlight.  _

_ Mytho leaned back on his arms, his feet extended past the blanket he had brought with them, she was beautiful, her hair loose and blowing behind her, her arms wrapped around her knees. She smiled as if there were no worries in the world.  _

_ He was glad he could give that to her.  _

_ “I’ve read about Verona, and La Rochelle-” _

_ “La Rochelle? Not Paris?” _

_ “Mm-mm.” She shook her head. “La Rochelle, my father used to talk about La Rochelle, when he used to trade with France. He would tell me all about it, well mama and me.” _

_ “Where else?” _

_ “America, some place so new and young, there’s hope in a place like that, no traditions to tie it’s people down.” _

_ “So, Italy, France and America?”  _

_ “Just as a start.” She rested her cheek on her knee and beamed at him. “I dream about flying away on the clouds, and waking up some place I’ve never been.” _

_ “And do you think that one day that will happen?” _

_ Her smile faded, and Mytho regretted his grounding words immediately. Who was he to wake a dreamer from her sleep?  _

_ “No.” She whispered fatally. “I imagine that the farthest I’ll go is the edge of the sea, never stepping past the foam.” _

“Mytho? You aren’t listening to me.”

“Hmm?” Mytho looked up, his mother knelt before him, her hands grasping his. 

“What every young woman desires with all her heart, is true love.” She said, with such conviction he almost believed her. 

The desire’s of Ahiru’s heart were much grander than love, but freedom.

“I will ask her, mama.” He said.

“Aw.” She tutted, a warm grin as she petted his cheek.

January, 1832

⎈

It was no easy task to ask Mr. Alder for his daughter’s hand in marriage. 

Mostly because he was so big and awkward and avoided talk of marriage as much as he could. But, Mytho had finally gotten the blessing of her father, and now, standing with her at the cliff’s edge, he felt as big and as awkward as her father.

He loved her, of that there was no doubt, and there was no doubt that he would be perfectly happy to marry her. She was beautiful and kind, she liked dancing and the same books as he did, but what he wanted was very different from what she wanted. 

“Miss. Alder?”

“Hmm? Yes?”

“We’ve been together for quite some time.”

“Yes, we have.” 

“And I feel that it is in our best interest to take the next step forward.”

“And the next step forward is… Oh.”

Mytho swallowed. “It is my will to find a suitable match and wife, to find someone who, above all, loves me with her entire heart.”

She licked her lips. 

“I may not know when, but I promise you, I’ll take you on an adventure.” His hands cupped her jaw, and the look in her eyes was one of pure terror. “To La Rochelle, and Verona.”

“Mr. Schwan-”

“Please, I beg you, call me Mytho.” 

“ _ Mytho.” _ she said, “Oh, Mytho, if I could give you everything you ever wanted, I would.”

“Then all I ask is for your hand in marriage.” 

She closed her eyes. “I have no choice, but to accept.”

Mytho kissed Ahiru, the salt of her tears slipped between his lips and landed on his tongue.

And, oh, he wished her father had said no. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Now we're officially in 1832, just like the summary says. If you're wondering why this story has so much exposition, it's because I'm practicing my exposition. More often than not I'll just come in guns blazing so I wanted to slow down.   
> *I realize that Mrs. Schwan is not acting very proper, and there's a reason I did that. For one, she wasn't born into wealth, and two she is a carefree soul who doesn't really care what most people think is correct.


	7. Chapter 7

February, 1832

⎈

It rained today. 

It made Ahiru’s life harder.

She was always cold and wet, everything turned to mud, there was no decent place to hang her laundry to dry. 

At least, she’d like to blame the difficulties of her life on the rain, at least the outer world resembled the chaos of the one inside of her. 

Wet and cold and miserable was a pretty decent way to describe the condition of her heart. 

Mr. Schwan was kind and good-hearted, he offered her everything, even to take her to Veronona. He wasn’t a fisherman and thus would never leave her waiting, he was wealthy and thus would never leave her wanting. 

And she loved him, but at the same time she didn’t. 

She loved his smile, and his laugh, she loved the way he made her tea and how he would share his food if he thought she would enjoy it, she loved it when they danced together and how he danced for her. 

But the fondness she felt in her heart… 

It wasn’t the fondness a wife has for her husband, far from it. 

Ahiru, however, could not refuse a gift such as this, how could she possibly pass up this offer? The offer of a lifetime, the offer of a life that would be spent in perfect bliss. 

But… despite it all, Ahiru’s heart was wet… and cold… and miserable… 

Father had left as well, leaving her with a gift, and an odd one at that. 

Her name was Mrs. Ziege and she was Ahiru’s great aunt. Ahiru had never met this woman, but had no choice but to believe her father. 

Papa decided that it was no longer fit for her to be left unattended - an idea that had been unanimously agreed upon by everyone in town, but they had come to this conclusion years ago - and asked his aunt to come and watch his daughter. To try and prepare her for the life she would have as a merchant’s wife. 

Her day started before dawn, when the rooster crowed, she rose and dressed, and was nearly out the door when Mrs. Ziege came out of her room in nothing but her nightdress. 

“Goodness child! Back to bed with you!”

“But, the chickens-” 

“Is the lady of the house required to go fetch eggs and milk for the breakfast table? I think not. Those are the tasks of a servant!”

Ahiru looked back over her shoulder to the door. “But, who will get the eggs? We don’t have a servant.”

Mrs. Ziege seemed offended. “It will be handed. Back to bed! No lady is up before dawn.”

Ahiru laid on her bed for quite some time, her inner clock telling her it was time to be awake, and thus she couldn’t fall back asleep, no matter how hard she tried. It was too dark to read, and she feared that the light of a flickering candle would set Mrs. Ziege off again… besides, she didn’t want to waste a candle for such a frivolous activity. 

Somehow, half an hour past dawn, when Ahiru shuffled out in her day clothes, her hair brushed and braided, the eggs and milk were on the table. 

She kept her eyes to the floor, wondering if Mrs. Ziege stooped so lowly as to collect eggs herself, or if she had hired someone to do it. 

Ahiru began to make herself breakfast, but was once again accosted. 

Then, came the argument about the daily chores. 

“You can’t! When will you have time to learn any proper etiquette!” 

“But who’s going to clean the house?” Ahiru kept her voice steady, arguing with elders never sat well with her. “I may have servants in the future, but not now!” 

Mrs. Ziege huffed. “But when will you have time to learn?”

“Well… you can just tell me while I clean?” 

Ahiru felt hopeful when realization lit up Mrs. Ziege’s eyes, but that was quickly crushed when Ahiru actually began her chores. 

“You are not paying attention!” Mrs. Ziege snapped. “Put it down and face me!” 

Mrs. Ziege had an issue with eye contact, it was unladylike and improper not to meet someone’s eyes whilst they were talking. She thought that Ahiru simply wasn’t listening whenever her back was turned, which was often, because her eyes were on her work. 

Ahiru lowered the duster and turned to face her great aunt, who smiled politely and repeated what she had just said, exactly the same thing Ahiru had just heard. 

But Ahiru managed. 

All it really meant was that her chores took much longer. 

_ Much _ longer. 

Then, Mrs. Ziege accompanied her to town everyday, she was perfectly aloof when she introduced herself to Mrs. Raetsel, and gave a shallow curtsy. 

She rather rudely, and loudly, insinuated that the way Evangaline raised Charlie was bound to lead to a life of crime, she was simply too lientant with the boy. 

Mrs. Schwan invited her over for dinner on Wednesdays once she heard that Ahiru had been more or less banned from ever entering the house of Amontadilo ever again, and Mrs. Ziege had been pleasantly silent, she did, however, send wide-eyed, disapproving looks Ahiru’s way whenever her manners were not satisfactory. 

Mrs. Ziege elected to stay home when Ahiru told her that her next activity would be a long, afternoon walk with a simple warning: “Keep my lessons in mind”. Hermia, knowing something was upsetting Ahiru asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“Oh, nothing!” Ahiru smiled, giving an awkward laugh. 

On Friday, Mrs. Ziege disapproved of Ahiru chatting with the sellers and “taking up too much of their time”, after Ahiru had stayed at Mrs. Thomas’ stall for a good thirty minutes. 

Ahiru paused, wistfully staring at the curb where the Old Woman used to sit before she migrated south, but not for long, certain that Mrs. Ziege would disapprove of her dawdling.

Mrs.. Ziege left on Friday night, with a promise that she would return on Sunday just in time for dinner, to return to see her husband, which meant that Ahiru was free for two blissful days.

“She seemed very lovely, I am sure she will be helpful when we start planning the wedding on a grander scale.” Mrs. Schwan said, rather unprompted, watching Ahiru over the lip of her cup. 

“Mmhmm.” Ahiru nodded, she was leaning on the table, her chin in her hand, stirring the tea constantly. 

“Women like that.” Mrs. Schwan placed her tea cup down soundlessly. “And I’m positive that she’s happy to see you after all these years.”

“Mmhmm.”

Mrs. Schwan pursed her lips. “Once we set a date we can order the bears from the zoo to come and stand guard, we have to make sure that no Fae try to come and steal the bride.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And once we gather all the frogs to be released on the day- Ahiru you are not listening.”

Ahiru perked up, she sat up straight and kept her hands in her lap. “I apologize, Mrs. Schwan.”

Mrs. Schwan delicately picked a tiny cake from the tiered tray. “Don’t let this woman get to you, she may seem strict but she simply has your best interests at heart.”

“Mrs. Schwan?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you have to go through this as well?”

Mrs. Schwan chuckled, she dabbed the corner of her lip with her napkin. “Yes, I did, I had the grace and poise of a ballerina, from the outside I seemed perfect, but inside I was rather like you.” She smiled fondly. “It will get better, this kind of life grows on you, not the other way around. Besides, when you’re the one with the most power, you can act however you want.”

Ahiru nodded limply, “But, I don’t want to make a fool of myself, or of your son.”

“My dear why do you say that?”

“Well,” Ahiru started to fidget. 

“The only possible way you could make a fool of yourself is if you act as someone you’re not.” Mrs. Schwan’s smile grew brighter. “Act with your heart, and there is nothing you can do wrong.”

Ahiru felt the corners of lips twitch, she nodded, and finally took a sip of her tea. It was dreadfully cold. “Can I make another cup of tea for myself? This one is cold.”

Mrs. Schwan laughed and ordered a fresh cup to be brought to her. 

When it was time to say good-bye, Mrs. Schwan wrapped her arms around Ahiru and hugged her warmly. “Write to me if there is ever a time Mrs. Ziege is too trying.” 

Mrs. Schwan was a strange woman, her manners were lacking, she stepped over lines she shouldn’t cross, to anyone else, she would have been seen as rude and inappropriate, but Ahiru saw her actions for what they were. 

Acts of the heart. 

Ahiru reached home just as Mrs. Ziege returned in her carriage, and the week began once more.

⎈

It wasn’t often that Ahiru could get away, Mrs . Ziege had taken her life in her hands, and turned it upside down. Saturday was the only true day she had to herself. So, more often than not, Ahiru found herself on the rocky shore, looking at tidepools, putting her toes in the chilly water. 

It was here where Mr. Scwhan found her. 

“Good evening.” He said, and he was correct, for the sun was well into its descent from the sky. She hadn’t noticed. 

“Hello.” She said, smiling as much as she could. 

“My mother wanted to know if you decided on a date.” Mr. Schwan took a seat on a large, flat rock, the kind that could easily fit two people, but Ahiru stayed standing. 

Ahiru held her hands behind her back, she felt horrible, the dates all up in the air, never picking one. 

April twenty-fifth.

The sixth of June. 

Or the twentieth of the same month. 

April was too close to the anniversary of her mother’s death, and while she never told this to Mrs. Schwan, she could never get married in April. It was between the two days in June, but choosing a date, it made it all too real. 

“My mother was born June fifth.” He said, picking up a rock and throwing it. 

“So June sixth to honor her?” 

“But the weather is better at the end of the month.”

“Then the twenty-fifth.” Ahiru nodded sagely. 

He laughed. “You don’t want this, do you?”

Ahiru opened her mouth to argue. 

“It’s fine. I know that… I understand that neither of us are ready for this.”

Ahiru sighed in relief. Finally choosing to sit next to him. “So then, what should we do?”

“If I don’t marry soon, my father will surely start trying to arrange something. Probably the wealthy daughter of a merchant.” 

“And I’ll have to marry Mr. Amontadilo.”

“What an awful fate!” 

She laughed.

Mr. Schwan turned his head away from the pale sky, and took her in. “You’re not like other girls I’ve met.”

“I resent that.”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I just mean.” He paused to turn and fix his eyes on the sea. “Girls seem to know what they want by now. Marriage, children, becoming a nun.” His shoulder bumped hers, and she did little more than smile. “It's not bad, it just worries me.”

“Worried? For my sake?”

“You’re getting older, Ahiru.”

She flinched, hearing her name coming from his lips for the first time. 

“One day your father will pass away.”

“Stop it.” She cast her eyes down. “Work isn’t hard to find, I may not be handy with a needle, but I’m good at cleaning, or at least, I do it often enough that I should be good at it.”

“Am I so repulsive that you would rather work for me as my maid?” 

“You’re not-” She laughed through her nose when she saw his expression. “You couldn’t afford me.”

“But, is that the life you want to have?”

The air was cold, blowing her hair out of her face, the tail of her braid lifting, her skin felt warm. Ahiru was tanner than most of the girls in town, girls who cared about the pallor of their flesh. She had set her socks and shoes down on the rock next to her while she let her feet dry in the sun, she could hear the steady breaths that Mr. Schwan took, but also the waves that came and went, slipping between the rocks and rustling the life that was there, she could feel her heart beating in tandem with the ocean. 

“When my mother died,” She began, tracing her fingers over the rock. “It hit my father hard, he had loved her so much, and she was his life. When she passed, he threw himself into his work, abandoning me on the shore while he went out for months at a time, catching fish. Being home reminded him too much of her, eventually he joined a second crew, he went out for three months with the first, came home for days at a time and then left with the other crew. Fishermen are supposed to use that time to… see their families, to take a break from the labor, but my father couldn’t handle it.

“I spent months waiting for my father to return, going to bed alone, waking up alone. I learned everything I needed to in order to take care of myself. Even- even when there was something I wasn’t good at, like starting the fire, I used to burn the tips of my fingers all the time. But I learned! Because I had too, because I was all alone.

“I swore that I would never marry a fisherman.” Ahiru paused, and took Mr. Schwan’s hand. “But what I want for my life, I want freedom. I always have. Freedom to do what I want, freedom to see the world, freedom from a-”

“A husband.” Mr. Schwan whispered. 

“If I die, I couldn’t bear to leave my husband broken hearted, and I couldn’t bear to abandon my children.”

“But you can’t live in fear, you can’t let fear control you.”

“Fear already controls me, Mr. Schwan.” She blinked, and swallowed hard. 

“I can’t promise I won’t die, but I can promise that I will never leave you for months at a time.”

She took a deep breath. “I know.”

His expression shifted, he had contored his countenance into something comforting a long time ago, but it faded into disappointment. 

_ It’ll never be enough. _

“June twenty-fifth.” She declared, she slipped on her socks and shoes before standing. “I have decided.”

“We can break off the engagement, it’s not too late.”

Ahiru looked over her shoulder, trying to find selkies in the waves. “I can’t live in a dream, this is my best chance. Please, let me take it.”

“Miss Alder, I don’t love you.”

She laughed. “And I don’t love you either.”

“Is this something you really want to do?” 

Ahiru bit her cheek, “No, not really. If I had my way- but I can’t. If you would rather wait it out, find someone who you love, I would understand.”

“Miss. Alder, you are my best chance, as well. So, I think we should take it.” Mr. Schwan stood. “June twenty-fifth.”

She nodded. 

He walked her home, bowing over her hand and kissing her knuckles. “You already look like a Schwan.” 

The comment made her blush, but then she thought of her chickens, she was simply trading her cage for a shinier one.

She watched him until he faded from view, and by that time it was dark, so she began dinner.

But, was marrying Mytho Schwan an act of her heart, or simply the command of her mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ziege: German for goat


	8. Chapter 8

Ahiru had stood on the dressmaker’s stool once before. 

Her father had bought her a new dress at the age of fifteen, the clothes she wore as a child too small, and immature for a growing young woman. At his request, the hem was made to touch the floor, with the intention that, should she grow another inch or two it would be a perfect length. 

She grew half an inch and had to mend it herself. 

Now, she stood surrounded by servants of the Scwhan household, Mrs. Schwan herself, and Ms. Ziege. 

They had both been ecstatic to hear that she had chosen a date, and Mrs. Schwan sent a letter to the seamstress immediately to make an appointment. 

“I want it to be fabulous!” Mrs. Schwan clapped her hands together in excitement. “I want it to be the talk of the town for a whole year!”

“Yes, Madame! Of course Madame!” Was all the seamstress said, hunched over as she took measurements. 

Mrs. Schwan’s maids milled around, pulling fabrics, laces and beads. 

“Ugh! Too dark!” She sent a maroonlavender fabric a wave of dismissal. “Too childish.” She said to a yellow fabric that was as bright and merry as the summer sun. “Oh! Now this has some potential.” 

The fabric she held was white, with a creamy sheen, like the wing of a swan. 

“Miss Alder, dear, look at this.” Mrs. Schwan smiled as she held up the fabric. 

It was soft under her finger tips, like the petal of a rose, like the satin of her mother’s dress, but better. 

“It is rather lovely.” She admitted. 

Mrs. Schwan laughed jovially and set it aside, her task now finding a lace that would match perfectly. 

“I want lace trimmed on the hem, sleeves, and neckline! And what do you think, a double tiered hem just to show off the lace?” Mrs. Schwan asked Ms. Ziege, who nodded her immediate approval. 

“Isn’t that too much?” Ahiru asked nervously, it sounded expensive, she knew that lace had never been attainable for her, but now to put it everywhere? 

Mrs. Schwan appeared sympathetic, but Ms. Ziege spoke first. 

“My dear, this is a wedding, it is a grand affair. Made even grander by the prestigious and honorable family you are tying yourself to.”

“Miss Alder, I assure you, there is nothing I wouldn’t pay-” She paused to take Ahiru’s hand, “-To make you look, and  _ feel _ your very best when you marry my son.”

So, Ahiru put her complaints to a rest, and let them work. 

She only got a glimpse of the sketch the dressmaker had designed, but while it was the most fashionable thing she had seen, however, she could not see herself in it.

⎈

She was bombarded every day with wedding preparations. Plans she wasn’t sure she should be making. 

But there were flowers to choose, what dish she favored, if she wanted to dance to something more contemporary or classical. 

It became so much, but her father was coming home soon, and her hope was that he would take some of that burden. 

Papa had seemed… happier since her engagement was announced. 

Finally, there was something he could set his mind to, a useful distraction.

But decisions had to be made, with or without her father, and she was here to make them.

She spent hours at the Schwan manor, since that was where all the plans were made, but anywhere else she went, there was talk about the wedding as well. 

“You know.” Hermia began. She was looking at a letter, folded it into thirds, and pressed closed with a wax seal. “You don’t appear to be in love, and whenever I look at Mr. Schwan, I cannot find love in him either.”

Ahiru sighed. “I’m afraid it’s true.” 

“The town believes that he loves deeply, everyone I’ve talked to has said they can see it in his eyes when he looks at you.” Hermia frowned, the letter was still in her hand, she opened the mailbox to deposit it. 

“And what do you see, written on his back Ms. Hermia?” 

The mailbox snapped closed. “Nothing, I cannot read him, he’s strange, don’t you think?” 

Ahiru nodded, they walked on, Hermia had so few letters today. 

“And then, I look at your back.”

“What do you see written there, Ms. Hermia?” Ahiru asked, but she was afraid of the answer. She peered at Hermia, moving her head so she could see past the rim on her bonnet. 

“The same thing I always see.” 

“Oh.”

“You know, I don’t doubt that you could fall in love with him. There are many occasions where a girl married a man she has never even met until the day of the wedding, but after some time, they fall in love.” 

Ahiru closed her eyes. “That sounds romantic.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“What about you, Ms. Hermia, you’re older than me and yet you’re not married.” 

Hermia smiled, she pulled out the last letter from her bag. “That is true, but you’re forgetting something.”

“What?” 

“I can’t get married until all of my siblings are!”

Ahiru smiled. “And how are they?”

“Well, excited at the prospect of a wedding, Mama hopes it will inspire Lewis and Hans to find a match. As well as Marie.”

“I hope so, too. It would be nice, and then you could get married as well.” 

“One day. I’m afraid I’ll have to find a husband from out of town. All eligible young men seem to be my brothers or shorter than me.”

Ahiru laughed, “Is that so terrible?”

“No, I suppose not, but doesn’t it sound nice? To look up into someone’s loving eyes? Like they’re the stars above?” 

“My, you’re very poetic today!” 

Hermia blushed. “It’s these love letters! Sometimes, people get carried away. Oh! Here we are.” 

She sent the last letter away, and they continued their walk, back to Hermia’s house. 

“Thank you for accompanying me today.”

“You’re welcome! It was a nice break, everyone is talking about the wedding…” 

“Would you like to come in? It looks like it’s about to rain.”

Ahiru looked over her shoulder, at the grey clouds cast over the sky. “Thank you, but who knows how long the rain will last? I would hate to impose.” 

Hermia smiled and waved good-bye, her unmarried siblings coming and waving good-bye as well. 

Ahiru did her best to hurry along, she hated getting caught in April showers, they always seemed to be the coldest. 

She was lucky, when she came to the front door and the sky had let loose a light drizzle. 

Ahiru prayed she wouldn’t get sick, but then took it back, if she got sick she would be able to rest for a few days instead of… well…

Ms. Ziege wasn’t too happy to see her, claiming she should have stayed put instead of testing mother nature, and instructed her to get out of her barely wet clothes. 

“And put on something warm!” Was the last call as Ahiru shut her door. 

She didn’t bother, simply changing her stockings into fresh ones, and letting down her hair. 

She sat at her window, her hair over her shoulder brushing it idly as the rain came down harder. 

It was a nasty storm, and it would delay her father’s return, the crew would simply not risk coming into port. 

The storm continued into Friday, and Ms. Ziege was too afraid to go out to fetch the eggs and milk. But Ahiru wasn’t, much to Ms. Ziege’s chagrin. 

She did her best to baten the chicken coop, protecting the hens and the cock from the winds and rain, and then moved Gelbvieh into the small stable built off the side of the house. 

When she returned, she was shivering, but Ms. Ziege held her tongue as she made breakfast. 

Ahiru was told to bathe in warm waters until even the tips of her fingers felt too hot. 

They stayed inside. Ahiru was reading her book about Captain Siegfried. She had finished it some time ago, but it still kept her captivated. 

He had reigned terror over the Atlantic for a decade, from 1712 to 1725, and then simply disappeared. There had been rumors that the crew went on a long voyage to the Americas, in pursuit of the fabled Fountain of Youth in the Flordias, but had never returned. They never made port, never returned home. Simply vanished. 

_ Theories of what happened to Captain Seigfried’s ship and crew have no factual backing of any kind, and range from death by sunken ship, to taken prisoner by the Sea Sorceress Circe.  _

_ However, there is one fact that the crew never returned, and the ship was never seen again. _

Her mind whirled,  _ how could an entire ship just disappear? _

The book paid little mind to the wild theories that had been made in the century that had passed, but it made her itch to find out more. 

Ms. Ziege was playing the piano that she brought from her home to entertain herself, and filled the air with a pleasant melody. 

Ahiru had never played before, and the real reason for the piano was to give Ahiru lessons, but, as they both soon learned, Ahiru had no musical bone in her body. 

Her fingers were short, and no matter how hard she tried, she could never press the right key, always the one next to it. She lost the beat too easily, even when Ms. Ziege counted her in. And, reading the music was like reading a foregin language. She simply couldn’t warp her head around it. 

Ms. Ziege sighed and told Ahiru to move. She played a few notes and tried to make the young girl sing. 

“You are too sharp. Try again!”

Ahiru didn’t have the heart to ask Ms. Ziege what being sharp even meant, or how to fix it. 

Ahiru thought she had a fine voice, at least, she didn’t sound too terrible whenever she sang her mothers songs to herself under her breath, but Ms. Ziege said she sounded like a dying cow. 

“Again.” 

After an hour Ms. Ziege gave up, but came back to it every week to try and train Ahiru right. 

Ahiru lifted her eyes from her book, running her thumb over the last few pages. She wondered if Ms. Ziege intended to make her practice. 

As the storm raged on, Ahiru lifted her voice to ask, but Ms. Ziege shook her head. 

“No, child, today is a peaceful day. A day of rest. After all, there is not much one can do on a day such as this.” 

Ahiru felt relieved, finished her book, and then went to fetch a new one. 

Then, there was a knock at the door. 

“Who could that be…” Ms. Ziege wondered aloud as she rose up from the piano bench and went to the door. 

Ahiru didn’t move from the couch, but rose when someone was invited in. 

“... what are you doing here?” Ms. Ziege asked, a hint of outrage in her tone. 

A hunched over man breathed heavily. “My Lady, ‘tis your husband.”

She gasped, her delicate hand rising to cover her mouth. “What ever do you mean? Speak quick!”

“He has fallen ill, the doctors are afraid…” He bit his tongue, “My Lord has requested your presence at once.”

“But, my charge-” Ms. Ziege looked over her shoulder at Ahiru, her eyes wide, lips parted. Ms. Ziege steeled herself. “Go fetch my things, we shall be on our way in an hour.” 

Ahiru put down her book, rushing to help Ms. Ziege gather all her things. 

“Ahiru.”

Ahiru paused, but answered the call of her great aunt. “Yes?” 

“I will send word to Mrs. Schwan about my absence, I will ask that she kindly send someone to check on you tomorrow if the storm is still here, and even if it has passed by then.” 

Ahiru nodded, she watched as Ms. Ziege sat down, taking out a pen and paper. 

The servant had made quick work of his lady’s things, and moved to take them to the carriage he had brought, Ahiru could do little, but stood and tried to make herself useful. 

Ms. Ziege did not hug her good-bye, but gave her a rough curtsy before rushing out into the rain to load up into the carriage. 

“Careful,” The servant told the horses. “The mud may slip and slide, but don’t let such precious cargo fall into the sea.”

He whipped the horses into action, and they were off, following the road that led to the mainland. It would take longer, but the road leading into town would be flooded, and in these conditions, it would be unwise to take. 

Ahiru hurried back inside, determined to spend the evening alone, and at peace. 

She knew what day it was, despite not reading the paper, or owning a calendar. And more importantly, she knew what tomorrow was. 

April thirteenth, the anniversary of her mother’s death. 

For years, it was a day spent in tears, but as she grew it was a day of remembrance. 

Ahiru mourned the loss of her mother, but she desperately clung to those memories as well.

The sound of her voice, sitting at the pine kitchen table, holding Ahiru as tightly as she could. 

Ahiru made her preparations, and while they took most of the night, Ahiru didn’t, she wasn’t tired, she could never sleep on the night before the thirteenth.

When dawn came, the rain lessened, and a golden sun peeked through the clouds, it was more pleasant now, a soft rain that gently pattered the roof of her home. 

Ahiru changed, the soft yellow skirt, and the white shirt, her shawl tucked into her belt, she let her hair down, catching some of it to be pulled back… Her mother had liked keeping her hair down, as much as Ahiru preferred it being kept out of her face, pinning half of it back seemed a happy compromise. 

She shoved her feet into her embroidered socks, a poor companion to her shawl, her fish were lumpy, and nothing began or ended on the same line. She had shown them to Mr. Schwan once… and while he had complemented her work, she knew he was only doing it out of politeness. 

She thought to tie a ribbon in her hair, but then abandoned the idea. She was a grown woman now, not a child. 

Then, she went through the rituals of this day. 

She baked her mother’s favorite bread. Then she tried her hand at embroidery, a simple rose with a long green stem. She read her mother’s favorite book, and sang her mother’s favorite song. She even tried to play it on the piano. 

As the day went, the sky cleared, and the rain stopped. 

She paused to pull Gelbvieh out of the stable, and take the broads off the chicken’s coop, to give them fresh air. 

She sat on the cliff, and looked for selkies, for mermaids and hippocampi, for kelpies, and sea serpents, but the ocean kept her secrets and revealed nothing. 

Ahiru saw a distant ship, her father and his crew, coming in after that horrible storm, they would be here at nightfall. 

Then, she and her father could say her mother’s favorite meal, and go to bed, and wake up, April fourteenth, pretending that nothing was different or out of routine. 

The sun was fading, the ship grew larger, and Ahiru had one last tradition to keep. 

She entered the room of her mother and father and crept to the jar of seaglass. 

When her mother died, she had asked to say good-bye to Ahiru. 

Ahiru remembered being small, and feeling smaller as she gazed up at all the eyes staring down at her. 

She climbed into her mother’s bed, the sun a golden ball sinking into the sea, casting warm light into the otherwise cold room. Her mother’s hands held her close, tucked her loose hair behind her ear. 

_ “This is good-bye, my little one, but do not cry for we will see each other again.” _

Ahiru sniffed, but nodded, knowing that her mother never lied. 

_ “Every year, on this day, I want you to take the seaglass that I have found, take one piece, and throw it into the sea.” _

_ “But why?” _

Her mother kissed her temple, her lips chapped,  _ “Because I have no use for my sea glass anymore, and while I love the pieces I have found, I want to return my gift from whence it came, and hope that someday, a new person will find the glass and love it as much as I have.” _

_ “But I love the sea glass.” _

_ “I know you do, my precious one, but the sea glass will only remain a bitter reminder, but a reminder nonetheless. You will lose me, but not my sea glass, and one day, many years from now, when the jar is empty, and the glass is returned, you will have healed. It takes time, and every piece will be hard to give away, but it is something that you must do in order to move forward. Promise me.” _

Ahiru nodded. 

“I promise, mama.”    
The jar was still very full, and Ahiru feared that it would never empty, and thus her heart would never be healed, but she had never broken her words, however hard it was to let the sea glass go. 

Ahiru picked a frosted piece, and put it in her pocket, it was small, but it still held the joy of her mother. 

She made her haphazard way down to the rocky shore, she stuck her hand into her pocket to pull out the piece of glass and return it to the sea, when something caught her eye.

For a moment, she thought it was a beached dolphin, but when she looked again she saw it was a man. 

She gasped lightly, and went over to help him.

He was caught in a fishing net and she wondered if Papa’s crew had suffered a loss. 

He was mumbling something under his breath, and she was happy to know he was at least alive. 

“Sir! Are you alright?” 

Her voice frightened him, but he perked up, gasping for air. 

He appeared old. She thought to herself how did he survive the storm? 

His white hair was long and matted, and he remained unrecognizable to her, meaning that he had not come from her father’s ship.

He blinked up at her, his eyes a strange color, like a deep rust. 

He lifted his hand to her, his mouth moving but she did not hear. 

Ahiru moved closer to the strange man, her only thought to help him. 

He had on an impressive red coat, perhaps he was a captain that was thrown overboard. 

“...I...child…”

“What?” She knelt down next to him, combing her hair over her shoulder so he ear was free. 

“...I need… that...will… me.”

She bit her lip, lowering her head so that her ear was right above his mouth. 

“I need your word that you will help me, child, please help an old man stand to his feet.” 

“Oh! Oh of course!” She moved away, her hands bracing his shoulders, her mind formulating a plan to take him to the Schwan’s, where he would be treated better, she was sure.

But his hand latched onto her wrist and pulled her down. “Your word! Give me your word!”

“My…” Her brows knit together. “I give you my word that I will help you?” 

“Help me rise to my feet! Help me to stand!” 

She nodded, “I give you my word that I will help you rise to your feet.” 

She wasn’t sure why, but sometimes old people were strange- 

A shock went through her, as if she had plunged into the cold water. 

She started to shake, and recoil, she didn’t feel well, her legs… 

The man grinned, baring his teeth, something flashed behind him, something like scales, but that disappeared as he stood. 

Ahiru gasped, pain flooded through her, as if her skin was being cut open, there was a ripping sound that filled the night air, her stockings fell to the rocks, ruined. 

She tried not to cry as she leaned heavily on her hands, she looked down at her legs and blanched. 

Ahiru tried not to scream at the sight of her legs, or rather their absence, and the limb that took their place. A large tail, covered in scales and ending in a glossy fin. 

The bones - she could feel too many - ached with growing pains, her skin felt raw under the scales, and the temptation to pick them out of her skin was too great. 

The man picked her up in his arms, he laughed wickedly and said “I am sorry my dear girl. You just happened to be the first person to cross my path. Nothing personal!” And then he chucked her into the ocean, just like she was a piece of sea glass. 

Her arms failed, and so did the heavy tail. She hit the water, and she began to sink down. Her instinct was to swim with her legs, but that failed, and the ungraceful wag only tangled her skirts and ruined bloomers and made it harder. 

She wasn’t that far, she could swim back to shore and then- 

But, her plans were cut short, in her flopping, her head collided with a rock, with enough force, and just in the right place, to make her world go black. 

Ahiru’s body stilled and she floated peacefully in the water, she moved with the current of the sea as it dragged her out and pulled her down into its watery depths. 


	9. Chapter 9

Mytho remembered staying up later than usual, his mother and father had gone out for an evening stroll on the beach, and he waited for their return. 

He kissed his mother’s cheek, and retired to his room, he stayed up in bed, burning the midnight oil as he lost himself in a story. 

He patted his pillow, and began turning down for the night, his eyes droopy and his body exhausted. He must have fallen asleep at some point because soon he was being shaken awake. 

“Mytho! Mytho! Rise! Quickly!” 

Mytho rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed. “Mo-mother what?” 

“Hurry, and get down to the foyer. Now!” 

Drowsiness swiftly fell when he saw the stricken worry in her eye. 

He pulled on his robe and slipped his feet into his slippers and chased after her, she led him down the hall, the light of a flickering candle guiding them, casting strange shadows on the large portraits around him. 

Voices rose as they came closer to the foyer, louder and clearer as the door was thrown open.

“-gone!” 

Mytho faltered. 

Mother rushed to father’s side and he quickly wrapped his arms around her. The candle carefully held between them, their ghostly eyes fixated on one thing. 

Mytho stepped into the room, his heart pounding, and there he was, Miss. Alder’s father, his head in his hands. 

He was a large man, a quiet man, like a storm far out to sea, you could feel the wind on your face, and see the black clouds rolling your way, even hear the distant thunder, but Mytho had never seen him like this. Where the storm finally hit.

“Is she here?” His voice came up from between his hands, thick with unshed tears. 

Mytho sat down on the chair that faced Mr. Alder, his parents now behind him. “Mr. Alder?” Mytho reached out his hand, to comfort him, but pulled away and set his hand in his lap. “What happened?” 

“Mytho, he doesn’t have to repeat himself-”

“Mr. Schwan.” Mr. Alder held up his hand. “Thank you, for your concern.” He lifted his head, his eyes red and watery, and then he turned those tortured eyes on Mytho. “My son, as you know, there are... times where I can’t be home to- to take care of my daughter, my girl. I realize that there are times where I have leaned on the crew and the sea when I should have been here. For her. I know I have been a coward, and a weak, weak man. I don’t know what she has told you, but she is my greatest possession.” 

Mr. Alder blinked, and a tear fell from his eye; Mytho was shocked, not because he was crying, but because for a moment he looked so much like his daughter. 

Mytho reached out and took his hand. “I know this, sir, please. Continue.” He pulled his hand away. 

“I have had some debts to pay, I tried to keep them secret from her, and I’ve tried to pay them off so that she can live freely, I’m almost free.” He said, his voice low, and desperate. “For fifteen years, I’ve worked nonstop for her future.”

“I understand.” Mytho said, his heart pounding, he tried to keep calm. “But why are you here?”

“I fear she’s run away. I came home and she was just gone. I’ve gone everywhere, wreaking havoc, waking everyone to try and find her, but no one has seen her.”

“But why would she-” Mytho cut himself off, he stood and walked towards the window, his unsteady breath visible on the window pane, the moon was bright, the sea crashed against the wave. 

Would she run away just to escape marrying him? 

“Did she know about the debt?” He asked. 

“No, no- I, I never told her. I never wanted her to know.”

“What evidence was there that she ran away?” His father asked. “My colleague’s daughter and her brother ran away some ten years ago, they took everything with them. Did your daughter pack clothes? Money? Things to sell?” 

“No- I.” Mr. Alder cleared his throat. “No, I didn’t check.” 

“Let me change, Mr. Alder, and I will go with you.” Mytho said. 

“You, but-” 

“Miss. Alder told me about wanting to visit foreing places, I know what she would take, and what she couldn’t afford to leave behind.” 

Mr. Alder nodded solemnly, and Mytho turned on his heel. 

“Mytho!” 

Mytho was barely out in the hall when his mother ran after him. 

“Mytho, wait!”

“Mother, I have to go, she could be hurt, or lost, please I can’t- I can’t hear about it, I have to find her myself.” 

His mother bit her lip. “I know, oh I know, but you have to keep this quiet.” 

“What? How, Mr. Alder told the whole town that she was missing!” 

She nodded nervously, “Yes, yes I know, I will go out tomorrow, no matter what happens and tell everyone that she left with Mrs. Ziege, that she left a note that Mr. Alder didn’t see. Whatever happens, if- if she’s been killed-”

“Mother-”

She grabbed his arm in a vice. “Mytho Siegfried Schwan you listen to me! If she has been taken or killed you will be the first to be blamed for it! Your name will be besmirched! I want to find her as much as you do, believe me, but I need to protect you as well! I will tell Mrs. Thomas at the market, and that young Mrs. Zimmerson, she seems to be the town gossip and she’ll get the world spread I’m sure of it. We will set the record straight.”

Her palm pressed his face, her eyes boring into his. He had never seen his mother like this. 

She carried the Schwan name well, even if it was a name she took on. 

Mytho hurried to change, finally taking in the time, a quarter past four, the sun would be up soon and then their search would be much easier. 

He changed quickly before marching out of his room, but stopped, his purse catching his eye. If worse came to worse, and he had to buy passage to chase after her… a train ticket, or a boarding pass for a boat, it would be better if he could just go rather than running back home. 

He pounced on it and stuffed it in his pocket.

Mytho met Mr. Alder at the door, and two servants came with two horses. 

Mytho mounted quickly, but Mr. Alder stood, petting the horse’s mane. 

“I’m a fisherman, Mr. Schwan, not a rider.”

“You don’t know how to ride, sir?” 

He cleared his throat. “I do, I learned a long time ago, but I will be uneasy and slow. I will take the horse, to cover more ground, but you ride ahead, the house is unlocked and you can get inside.” 

“Mr. Alder, I promise you, I will find her, wherever she has gone.”

Mr. Alder stood still, his eyes searching Mytho’s and once again he was confounded by the profound look that rested inside of them, and how much they reminded him of Ahiru.

Mr. Alder held out his hand, and Mytho took it. 

Mytho was off, the gate barely opening as he rode past. 

It was dark and cold, he trusted the horse to watch for rocks in the road, and took the path he knew by heart. Now he was alone, finally able to process what had happened.

Ahiru was  _ gone.  _

No way of knowing where she had gone, if she left of her own will, if she had been taken, if some accident had taken place. 

The fears of her father, that she ran away, and the fears of his mother, that she had been killed. 

He couldn’t stand either thought, for why would she leave if it wasn’t because of him? 

Did she crave freedom so much that she would run off without even a goodbye? 

He pulled on the reins, jumped from the horse and ran to the house, barely seen in the dark, his hand searching for the door handle and pushing it open.

It was eerie, Mytho had never been in this house without Ahiru and a chaperon inside, without the fireplace aglow, or at least the sun shining brightly in the sky. It was quiet, Ahiru talked, or Ms. Ziege played the piano, and now there was nothing, just the floorboards creaking under his feet. 

He needed light, if he was to investigate this house and see if Ahiru left a note of any kind, he would need light. 

There was a lantern by the door, resting on a hook, he took it and then stumbled to find a match. 

With the lamp, the house was warmer, and he could see, but with Ahiru gone, it was an unfamiliar place. 

Mytho searched, high and low, but there was nothing to be found, he moved to Ahiru’s room, a place he never dared step, and opened her door. 

He always imagined a place like this, it was tiny, square, with a window above the bed that faced out to sea. The bed was small, where a lumpy pillow and scrap quilt laid. There was a chest at the foot, and a small vanity, with a small mirror and a wooden hairbrush. It was cold, despite the fact that this is where Ahiru would have spent most of her time, the only emotion he could feel was loneliness. 

It was bare, and as he moved around and found her stack of books in the corner, there was nothing here that cried out her name. 

Mytho knelt besides the books, if she was leaving for forever, wouldn’t she take these?

How often did she talk his ear off about the latest book she was reading? 

Mytho moved to the chest at the foot of her bed, opened it just to see inside before closing it, the operation already felt too invasive. 

The chest was full, her clothes stuffed messily inside, and not with her. 

He walked to her vanity, and picked up her brush, wouldn’t she want this? 

Mytho caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror, his jaw unshaven, purple bags under his eyes, he looked frantic, but it didn’t even begin to convey what he felt inside.

The door finally opened and he heard Mr. Alder’s large steps. 

Mytho stepped out and swiftly took two steps at a time. “Mr. Alder.” He said. 

“Have you noticed anything?” 

Mytho shook his head. “Nothing is amiss. No note, all her belongings are still in place. But I didn’t want to dwell.”

Mr. Alder nodded. 

“Perhaps, you should keep looking here, and perhaps I can go and try to find her.”

“Check the docks, and the shores, perhaps she stayed out too late and fell asleep.”

Mytho nodded, “Yes, good thinking.” Mytho prayed in his heart that the answer was that simple. That she had wandered out onto the rocks and simply stayed out too late and fallen asleep. 

Mytho moved quickly, he patted his horse’s flank, like the well trained beasts that they were, they stayed still and patient as they waited for their master. 

“Forgive me for riding you so harshly. I will leave you here, with Mr. Alder, so you may rest, and take your companion.” Mytho patted his horse’s head gently. 

He mounted once more and was off, riding more slowly, before a horrible thought came to his mind. 

When Mrs. Ziege came to inform his mother she was leaving to take care of her husband, he overheard her talking about the rain, how the road was so horribly muddy they had to take the long way around. 

_ The carriage almost slipped over the cliff, I swear I felt the wheel leave solid ground!  _

_ The way to town was more dangerous! Flooded in some places, pieces of earth just falling into the sea, oh what a storm!  _

_ My horseman tried to come up that way, but had to turn around, but either way was just as dangerous!  _

Mytho stopped, his eyes wide and heart pounding, what if… 

No, he could barely think it, but he looked over his shoulder anyway, to the cliff where they began their courtship, where he came to find her standing and staring out to sea so often. 

Mytho urged the horse around and came to that place. He dismounted his steed and walked to the edge, carefully he leaned forward and looked down before into the cold water, swirling against the sharp rocks. He couldn’t see her, even as the night turned to morning, but how would he even get over there.

“Come.” He said, backing away from the ledge. “Let’s hasten.” 

He rode to the docks, not sure what to look for, whether she would have bought passage for a boat, or stowed away.

His mother told him to keep quiet, how could he ask if she had run away if he couldn’t speak? 

The sky was lightening, and the town was waking, he had to move faster, mother would be on the move soon, going to Mrs. Thompson or Mrs. Zimmerson around midmorning, to spread the gossip, he had a few hours at most, and it wasn’t enough. 

He tied his horse to a post, “Watch him for me will you?” He asked a man opening the door to his office, some kind of boating company, and he nodded wearily, waving his hand absentmindedly. 

Mytho took off like a shot running to the beach under the docks, hoping to find a sleeping beauty. 

He slowed, worried if he moved too fast he would miss her, but that was when he tripped. 

There was a large rock that tapered, and his foot caught the end, he fell, his face hitting the sand. 

There was a sound of shock, and Mytho allowed himself to hope that he had  _ found her. _

He turned around, placing his hand on her shoulders and turning her over, but screamed in shock. 

She was so old!

“Ahiru, what happened to you?” 

The woman blinked her eyes rapidly, “Huh?” 

Mytho blanched. “Oh, oh I am so sorry, I thought you were-” Mytho looked into the old woman’s eyes, such a strange color, they looked so much like Ahiru’s that he genuinely thought it was her, but they were a different blue. Deeper, and untamable. 

“You’re very rude!” She shouted, lifting her hand and started hitting him. 

“What? Ow! Stop that!” 

But she didn’t.

In fact, she started hitting him harder. 

“Ow! Stop!” Mytho rose, desperate to move away from the crazy old woman. “I’m sorry for disturbing you! Good day!” 

“One hundred and seven years! Seven months, and three weeks! And two days I’ve waited! You fool! You bastard! You left me behind! For what! For what?” She panted, her hands supporting her started to sink into the sand, she coughed, and then locked eyes with him. “I’ll wait for forever! Forever, I swear it!” 

Mytho stood frozen, confused by what she was raving about. “What?” 

“Oh, oh my poor boy, you don’t know? And how could you? Wet, wet, everything is wet.” Silent tears leaked out of her eyes, and she coughed again. 

Mytho crept back towards her, his hand stretched out as if he was approaching a wounded animal. 

“Tell me, what is your name?” 

“Name? Name? What is a name? I have no name, I have lost it, lost it to the sea just like everything else.” She bowed her head. “Wet, wet, everything wet.”

Mytho eyed the old woman, and tried to think of something to say, but before long, she had turned her back to him and laid her head back in the sand, her breathing evened out. 

“Crazy old fool.” Mytho murmured, but he couldn’t leave her, he fished out his purse, and left her some money, placing it close to her head so she would see it when she woke up again. 

Mytho didn’t have much time left, as he walked out from under the docks he saw that the sun was rising in the east. 

He hurried out along the rocks, searching for some sign, a sleeping girl, a note, a misplaced basket. There was one spot he knew she loved, and he rushed to it, his eyes on the path, but still straying.

But nothing, there was nothing stuck between the rocks, no sleeping girl, nothing. Only crabs that scuttled out of his way. 

Mytho stopped, it was too late, the sun was in the right position, mother would be heading out now, he could see her, dressed in that buttery yellow gown, and a large brimmed hat to keep the sun from her eyes, humming to keep up the facade. 

Mytho turned and sat down on the rock, buried his face in his hands. 

“This is all my fault. I should have let her go free, it’s what we both wanted.” He said, lifting his eyes to look at the ocean. “She wanted her freedom, and I want a wife who will love me. Well, damn it all, I gave her the choice! I offered it to her! She didn’t have to leave like this!”

Mytho buried his head in his hands once more, the heavy weight of guilt falling on his shoulders. 

“And it’s all my fault, she was too kind, too sweet, she would have died for me if she thought that’s what I wanted. Oh, and now she’s jumped from the cliffs.”

Mytho gripped the sleeves of his shirt. “No! No, she would never do that! She would never abandon her father! Or me! Something must have happened to her!” 

“What did?”

Mytho screamed out of shock, but beside him was the old fool. “You-”

“Look what I found, pretty rocks, pretty.” She held out the bundle of marks he had left her. “I saw someone last night.”

“You did? Who?” Mytho shifted to look at her.

The old fool bit her coin. “Ooh! Tastes like salt.” 

“Old Woman, who did you see?” 

The Old Woman blinked, and pointed out to sea. “I saw a girl and an old man, the old man was very old, and the girl was very young. Pretty, pretty young thing.”

“Well, what happened, tell me!”

The Old Woman held the marks up to her ear and shook them so they would jingle. “I was too far away, under the docks I was.”

Mytho sighed, and slapped his hands to his face. 

“But I saw them, and a ship?” She squeezed her eyes shut, and the words tumbled out as if they hurt her to say them out loud. “A ship on the sea, with white sails, there’s a mermaid on the bow head, and she is not happy! The flag is red! Oh, yes! And at the helm, the captain, his eyes are so sad and lonely.” 

Mytho lifted his head, how could she have seen all this from the docks? And how did the ship come so close with no one else seeing it? 

“This ship, they took her?”

“Oh yes, they took her alright, a ship of pirates! As black as they come!” 

“Oh God.” Mytho stood, he started pacing, which was very hard since he was on rocks. “What shall I do?” 

“Go after her! Go find her! Don’t leave her behind!” 

Mytho nodded, he stooped down and took the Old Woman’s hand. “Yes, I will find her, but tell me, Old Woman, where did they go?” 

The Old Woman stared over his shoulder. “They never go anywhere, just where the wind blows.”

“Please, what way did they head?” 

“West.”

Mytho nodded. “I thank you.” 

“Wait!” The Old Woman cried and pulled his arm down, she took his chin in her head and made him look at the rocks. “Do you see what I see!” 

Mytho blinked, just a few feet ahead where a pair of boots.

“Oh my, oh my god-” Mytho rose and quickly came to them, he picked them up, the tiny little leather boots Ahiru always wore. Beside them where her socks, the horrible embroidery making it undoubtedly hers, and then, a stone, a piece of sea glass, a strange, perfect shape, oval and frosted white, he ran his thumb over the center, where a gentle spiral made its way from the middle out to the edge.

He wondered if this was Ahiru’s too. 

Why would Pirates remove her shoes and socks?

Unless, her feet were already bare, and she was dipping them in the water, or…

She had left him a clue. 

“Kidnapped by pirates?” His mother whispered, she had already spoken to both Mrs. Thomas and Mrs. Zimmerson. They absorbed the news like sponges, and his mother was sure they were already telling as many people as they could. “Mytho, that’s absurd!”

“Mother, I realize that pirates are a dying breed, but-”

“Why would they kidnap a poor girl?” 

“Someone saw it happening!” Mytho urged, but in truth, he wasn’t sure how much he could trust the old woman. “We have to move quickly, we have to leave now and-”

“And what? Chase after her on a pirate ship? No.”

“Mother-”

“Mytho! No! That is final!” Her eyes zipped back and forth, a plan coming together in her mind, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her handkerchief. “We shall send a letter to Mrs. Zeige informing her that Miss. Alder met an unfortunate fate, that she slipped on those muddy roads and fell into the sea. We will then tell everyone in town that Miss. Alder caught some sickness in Mrs. Ziege’s care and fell ill. That will cover this all up.”

“And what of Mr. Alder, what are we to tell him? Shall you lie to him as well?”

Mother became red with rage, she slammed her hand on the table. “Mytho! You are not thinking of your future! This scandal could ruin you! Everything our family has ever worked for will be ruined!”

“What does it matter! What does it matter that my reputation will be saved! My conscience will never be rid from guilt!”

“It’s just one girl!” 

“And what if the same happened to you!” Mytho stood, his chair falling behind him, clattering to the porcelain floor. “If father had left you to be raped and murdered by pirates! Would that have been just one girl!” 

“Mytho, how dare you insinuate to me-” 

“No, mother, I- I’m sorry. I cannot be here right now.” 

“Mytho!” 

Mytho turned and left the room briskly, storming past golden halls, and sunlit rooms, empty parlors to entertain guests, and entered his ivory tower. 

He ripped the certains from their rods as a roar ripped out of his throat, he took a candlestick and broke every mirror and let it rip through paintings. Heaving, he collapsed, his hands clenched and he let out a cry, sobbing into his hands. 

He stayed there, until the sun faded away, there was a knock at his door, once from his mother, but she couldn’t get in since he had tied a rope around the handles, a second time from his father, trying to talk sense into him, and then a final time from a servant asking him if he would like supper.

It would have been smart, to eat a meal before he left, but he hadn’t been thinking when that maid came.

No, the thought didn’t strike him until midnight, when the clock tolled twelve. His head shot up. 

They lived in a  _ port. _

His family owned boats that sailed to america! To the  _ west. _

Mytho was quick, he stood and stashed a few items into a knapsack, taking some extra money and his purse, a change of clothes, and a dagger. 

He wished he had some food to take, but that would be fine, he would get some. 

Mytho checked, he made sure that the door wouldn’t budge, but no, they wouldn’t check on him again until morning, and by then he would be safe and sailing. 

Mytho climbed out of his window, landing softly on the grass and ran, not for the gate, but to the ocean, where he could climb over the wall without the guards seeing him, then he could find his way to the docks, and barter his way onto a boat. 

Mytho was filled with adrenaline, just as he had been all morning, just as he had been since he was shaken awake by his frantic mother, he would be tired soon, once it wore off, but now he would use it. 

He came to the docks, and looked for a boat of any kind, he could wait until morning, and barter with the captain, but he wondered if that would be too late. 

Then, as Mytho was walking up the dock, his eyes roaming from ship to ship, he saw it. The same merchant ship his father owned. 

_ Just his luck. _

Mytho snuck closer, the captain was talking with the dockworker.

“Yes, as soon as we're all aboard, we shall be leaving.”

“Bad luck leaving at this hour of night.” The dockworker said. Yawning.

“Terrible thing, to remind an old captain of old superstitions.” 

“Beg pardon sir.”

“Yes, but it is odd to leave at this hour. We were meant to leave yesterday morning, at dawn.”

“Well, why didn’t ya- oh, I see.” The dockworker tsked. “Poor girl.”

“Yes, poor thing did you hear what happened to her?”

“No, I have no head for town gossip, sir, try to keep away from it.”

“Hmm. Yes, I never knew a town that got so carried away with a silly runaway girl.”

“Oh nah, me wife told me she went off with her caretaker, ‘cause her husband was sick, you see.”

“What happened to not knowing anything?”

“Well, I can’t help knowing what me wife tells me.”

“Of course. Mr. Schwan told me she had just disappeared in the night, that her father was beside himself with worry. Even he had no idea what transpired, the girl was simply missing.”

“Just missing? No note? All her things still there?”

“It would appear so, according to her father, nothing was out of place.”

“Poor Liam, I can’t think of anyone who would want to harm his little girl.”

“Why, you think she was murdered?”

“That’s what me wife thinks, that that Schwan son did it.”

“Please, if Mr. Scwhan’s son killed that young girl, Mr. Schwan would be doing everything to cover it up.”

“I thought she ran away, but now that seems unlikely. Oi, you know she and her dad live up on that cliff, you reckon she jumped?”

“What for? She was about to become rich behind her wildest dreams. And it was to my understanding that the young girl and the young Mr. Schwan were marrying out of love.”

“You don’t think it was a-”

“No, no if it was they would be getting married much sooner, why wait at all?”

“That’s true enough, I suppose. Well, what do you think happened then?” 

“A young girl disappearing in the middle of the night? No sign that she ran away, no sign that she was killed or killed herself, no sign of anything. We’re supposed to believe that she left with her caretaker? With her clothes all there? No sir, I don’t think she did leave with her caretaker.”

“That is a head scratcher.” 

“Indeed, well that is the last, have a goodnight.” The captain saluted the dockworker, and boarded his ship, and as soon as he did the gangplank was taken away, not giving Mytho many options. 

Even worse, the dockworker never moved, he was obviously going to watch the ship depart.

Mytho searched the ship for any possible way for him to get on, and then he saw it, at the very bottom was an open window. 

It was a slight, barely open, porthole but it gave him a chance. 

The ship was still, and would be for a while, the crew had boarded and settled in, and only now did they behind prepare the ship to leave the port. 

The dockworker yawned again, and Mytho crept around the very large ship he hid behind, until he stood just behind the dockworker, but between the two ships. 

He craned his neck, the window still open, he backed up, and waited for the dockworker to make any sound, and just as he opened his mouth again to yawn, Mytho jumped over the edge. 

He heard the dockworker mutter something, but quickly swam closer to the ship despite the frigid water. 

He reached the ship, and realized too late that the window was out of reach. 

He cursed under his breath, he had to think, he had to think qui-

The dagger, it would work best with two, but Mytho twisted until the knapsack was before him, his hand searching for that steel dagger, he pulled it out just as the boar lurched forward.

“No!” 

Mytho swam with the ship, and plunged the knife into the side of the boat, just under the window. He held on but the boat was gaining speed, it took all his strength to pull himself up, to use the dagger as leverage, as a step as his hand took hold of the windowsill. 

He opened it wider and then sent his pack inside, he was about to pull himself up when he looked down at the dagger. He couldn’t leave it, not yet. 

Using his feet, he pulled it out, and brought it up to where his hand could take it, then he threw the dagger inside with his pack. 

Hoisting himself inside, he fell to the floor, exhausted. 

He seemed to be in some kind of food cellar, he landed between a bag of potatoes and a bag of flour. Mytho panted, exhausted, as he took his dagger, encased it in its hilt, and tucked it away. 

The ship rocked, and it almost made him sick.

Mytho closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come as quickly as he wanted it to. 

He thought, with nothing to do, and sitting in the dark, he thought about his parents. 

For a long time, he believed they were good people, and perhaps they were under normal circumstances, but pushed to the edge, they wavered. 

So willing to preserve their good name, they didn’t care if the name of Ahiru Alder was dragged through the mud. They would like and do anything to save their fortune.

It made Mytho sick, and he wondered if he would ever be able to look at his parents the same way again. 

He would prove them wrong, he would prove that saving her would be worth it. 

As soon as he did, he would let her go, and she would be free…

Mother told him constantly how she had started from humble beginnings, the daughter of a farmer…

Mytho couldn’t stand to see Ahiru turn into the same woman as his mother, just as weak and cowardly, no, he couldn’t do that to her, he couldn’t create a careless woman. 

All his life, he never wanted to become his father, he never wanted to be the heir of his family’s company, and once this journey was over, his father would have to find a new apprentice. 

Mytho fell asleep quickly after his mind set in stone, even if it took all his life, no one would ever associate him to the Schwan family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *If you're confused about Mrs. Schwan's sudden personality shift, I uh, I don't know how to tell you this but uh fuck the rich?


	10. Chapter 10

There were moments where she drifted in and out of sleep. 

Her eyes blinked open and she saw nothing but light and deep blue. 

There was a chill that surrounded her, wrapping around her body and touching her face, she’d wake and reach for some kind of cover, but it always moved out of her reach, never staying still. 

Her head throbbed and once she felt her face press against something, and when she opened her eyes to look up she saw two yellow orbs, like pale moons hanging in the sky, but before she even had time to think it was strange that there were two moons, she drifted back to sleep. 

When she woke up, fully for the first time, she was in a cave. 

And when she breathed out bubbles floated into the air. 

Ahiru shot up, finally remembering what happened. 

The old man…

The words he made her speak…

The feeling of her limbs being torn apart…

Ahiru looked down, her heart pounding as she hoped it was a dream, but she was in an underwater cave, what could she be hoping for? 

It should have been dark, at least that’s what she remembered when she read about sea caves, the openings were too small to let submarines through, but darkness was all they could see, like a permanent night encapsulated at the bottom of the sea. 

However, the brightness was about as bright as her house would be in the early morning, then she wondered about the time…

The day. 

She hated to think if so much time had past that she needed to wonder about the  _ year. _

She shivered, her hands coming up to rub her shoulders, then she realized that her dress was missing, that everything was missing, except for her shawl. 

Tied in a knot that rested over her sternum, it covered her rather well. 

She pulled it closer around her, but the sea-soaked shawl was about as warm as the room around her. 

As Ahiru looked around, she found it all, very frankly, beautiful. Shafts of light illuminated her surroundings, revealing arches and pillars of stone, and then of course, the strange personal effects of whatever creature lived here.

There was no doubt in Ahiru’s mind that there was something down here, her hands brushing over a mossy bed, her eyes wandering to a wall were shelves had been carved into the stone, glass vials and jars cluttered the space, but there were also telescopes and sextants, even piles of gold and jewels littered the corners. 

Ahiru remembered the double moons and pondered if they were not perhaps eyes. 

The eyes of a sentient creature that had removed the clothes that made it so hard to swim, but left her shawl to act as a cover. 

When her temple throbbed she brought a hand to soothe the ache but found something slimy instead. 

She plucked at it, and the only thing she could think of was the time she and mama found a pile of kelp on the beach and she immediately dug her hands inside of the pile. 

Her hand fell away, what kind of creature had found her? 

Ahiru swallowed thickly, and tried to rise from the bed, but it wasn’t exactly like swinging her legs over and walking to her vanity. 

She used her hands to push off the mossy mattress, trying to remember how to swim. Her tail swished and she rightened herself, or at least, she thought she rightened herself. Her feet could have been pointed to the sky for all she knew. 

Well, her fins. 

She used her arms to balance herself as she got used to the tail and the fins, and the feeling of scales that ran over her skin, she was slowly getting used to it, but she was too aware.

Ahiru felt instantly warmer as she moved and kept moving, angling her body to swim down by the soft sand, raking her fingers through it, watching it billow into the water. She watched it float into the rays of light, then she was suddenly struck with a thought. 

She could swim towards the sun, find her way out of the cave and then back home. 

The sun on her face felt different here. On land, stepping into the sun made her skin instantly warm, her shoulders relaxed, her eyes closed and she felt like a flower in spring, rising out of the ground after a harsh winter. 

Under water, sun was just bright. 

It was hard to swim up, the sun in her eyes, the water magnifying it’s light as she swam up, wiggling her body through the hollow and she was greeted to open sea. 

“Wh-what?” the words past by her mouth horsley, after hours, if not days, of not speaking, she uttered her first words of confusion. 

But, there was nothing. 

The ocean was open, vast, clear as far as she could see, but there was nothing. 

No coral reefs, no fish, no seals, no dolphins, no sharks, there was nothing, no distinctive marks, no landmarks,  _ nothing. _

There was nothing. 

Nothing! 

There was nothing, nothing, nothing.

The ocean was full of nothingness. 

She turned, twisting her body north and south, east and west, but everything was blue and nothing.

Ahiru pushed off the rocks, her face pointed to the surface, making her tail go as fast as she could, propelling her faster than her human legs ever could. 

When she broke through she could a choking breath of air, the oxygen scorching her lungs until she dipped her nose back beneath the water. 

She looked, and in every direction was the same, flat, rolling sea. Not even a ship to distinguish where she was. 

Something touched her hand, and Ahiru dipped her head back under, and there were the moonlight eyes again. 

The creature was strange, her whole body covered in scales, she looked like a fish, but she had arms instead of fins, and legs instead of a tail. Her face was flat, lacking a nose, but there was kindness in her features, and her hand gently pulled Ahiru back underneath the waves. 

“I’m sorry you woke alone.” Her eyes searched Ahiru’s face, her hand raising to check her temple. “We should check this.”

“I want to go home.” The words hurt, they sounded coarse in her ears. 

The creature nodded. “But, you cannot.” 

Ahiru gasped. “Why not?” 

“My dear, you are cursed.” 

It made sense, hearing it from this strange creature, and it felt as if she had always known, but now it was finally clicking. “O-oh.”

“Come back with me, and I can help you.” 

Ahiru shook her head. “How can you help me?” She felt her salty tears disappear into the water, it was an odd feeling, crying underwater. 

“I am a helper to those who suffer most. Come.” Her hand came back, resting on Ahiru’s shoulder, directing her to swim down and back through the only rock for miles. 

Looking at it, it was larger, probably larger than the lands that surrounded Schwan manor, it was hard to see because sand had been kicked up and covered the massive rock, but whereas the sand around it was flat, the rock rose up like a giant mound. 

Crabs walked on the surface, sinking in and out of the cavities. 

The creature lead Ahiru back through the hole she swam out of, and followed her soon after, and then she was back in the cave. 

The creature offered to change her bandages. 

“Wh-what do they call you?” Ahiru asked, her hands held before her. 

“Some call me the sea witch, others call me much coarser titles, but you wish to know my name.”

Ahiru smiled sheepishly. 

“Edel.”

“Miss. Edel, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Ahiru Alder.” 

“I am happy to meet you.”

“Say, uh, how can I understand you? Aren’t you a f-” Ahiru bit her tongue, was being called a fish offensive? 

“I am a mermaid, and while we have our own language, I have learned the tongue of the terrafolk.”

“Oh, how?” 

Miss. Edel took a cloth and wiped away the leftover ointment before applying more and wrapping it again. “Well, I was raised with it, but my ancestors would converse with sailors, learning phrases and words, it was rather unreliable, but in the end proved to be worth it.”

“Oh! That’s good.” Ahiru fidgetted awkwardly. 

“Some would even use magic to learn it faster and then teach it to others.” 

“Why were you so desperate to learn the human language?”

Miss. Edel hummed, tying a tight knot in the back. “Your wound looks nearly healed, leave this on for two days and it should be clear to take off. And to answer your question, it was vital. Come this way.” 

Ahiru followed Miss. Edel as she lead them further into the cavern, they passed different rooms that were filled with strange things, one was a cauldron that’s contains glowed, there seemed to be a shark frozen in time in another, pelts from land animals in another. 

“The ocean is not filled with resources like land is. We were a dying breed, and so one day our ancestors resorted to asking the terrafolk for help, they did not understand us, and feared us. In anger, our elders lashed out, causing storms and sinking ships. Some merpeople used the blood from the sailors for witchcraft, potions for strength, potions for cleverness, potions for transformation. Others, however, didn’t agree with this approach.” 

Miss. Edel pushed her inside of a room that was filled with treasure, there was gold, silver, crowns and diadems, jews, necklaces, rings, enough to fill the jewelry box of an empress and her daughter. 

“Wow.” Ahiru’s eyes widened, she had never seen so much wealth. 

Miss. Edel swam to the top, having no need for a rolling ladder, and pulled out a round, red stone. 

“They went through the painstaking work of mimicking the sailors, of reaching out to them in peace.”

“But, Miss. Edel, no one knows anything about mermaids, they’re just… myths.” 

Miss. Edel smiled, her hand pulling a golden chain from her stores. “True, we are now, but that is through our own doing. There is a tale, an old one, about a man falling in love with a mermaid, he was a prince, and swore himself to her. When his father found out he wanted nothing to do with the merpeople, he led an attack and attempted to wipe us out. He was a fool, and his ship went down, but we learned our lesson. Contact with the humans became limited, and we only do it out of necessity.” Miss. Edel held out her hand, the chain falling through the water, the red jewel hung at the end, the jewel caught in a web of golden chain. “Like today.”

Ahiru swam forward, holding out her hand and accepting the gift. 

“Most don’t believe people who cry mermaids, and we like to keep it that way.”

Ahiru fastened it around her neck asking, “What is it for?” 

“The stone comes from a sacred island, once the flowing blood of a ravenous beast, it crystallized in the sea. The stone will lead you to the island, but it is important that as soon as you reach the island you abandon the stone.” 

“How will the stone do that?” Ahiru lifted it in the palm of her hand and instantly got her answer, it pulsed, like a heartbeat, the golden chain pulled at her neck, begging her to go, to swim. 

“The blood wants to return to its master.” Miss. Edel said. “But, Ahiru listen to me and listen well, do not listen to the stone.”

“What?”

“The beast lies and deceives, it is his duty to protect what resides on the island, and you must promise me that you will not let it deceive you.” 

Ahiru nodded. “I promise. What resides on the island?” 

“Many things, but what you need to look for is a sacred lake. It’s at the highest point of the island, its waters flowing down to flood all that live there. The water will work as a temporary fix-”

“Temporary? What do you mean by temporary? Isn’t there a permanent way to fix this?” 

Miss. Edel kept silent, and blinked. “My dear how were you cursed?” 

The old man…

“There was a man, he asked for my help…”

“That is how the curse works. It is passed from recpreiant to recepreiant. To be truly free of the curse is to give it someone else.”

Ahiru’s eyes widened, “What? How could I do that! No, no I can’t-!” 

“Which is why-” Miss. Edel covered Ahiru’s hands in her own. “You will find this island, and the sacred lake. The waters will heal you of your scales, but they will return.”

Ahiru nodded. “Once they return, do I need to go back and find the lake all over again?” 

“No, take a stone from the very center of the lake, when the scales return, put that stone in water and the water will become blessed, and sacred.” 

Ahiru took a shaky breath before wrapping her arms around Miss. Edel. “Thank you!”

Miss. Edel stiffened before chuckling warmly and returning the favor. “But do not worry, I shall not send you alone.”

“You’ll come with me?” Ahiru pulled away, her voice full of hope.

“No, I unfortunately cannot leave this place, but I will send with you my apprentice.” Miss. Edel turned and let out a low humming that filled the room. 

In a moment, a trail of bubbles filled the room and a small, child-sized mermaid was before Miss. Edel.

“Yes, zura?”

Miss. Edel smiled. “Ahiru, my apprentice, Uzura, Uzura, our new friend Ahiru Alder.”

“Oh! You have the blood stone, zura! Are we going to the sacred island, zura?”

Miss. Edel’s smile widened, evidently pleased. “Why yes, my little starfish. And where is the sacred island?” 

Uzura scrunched up her face in thought. “In the monk seal sea! Right?”

“Of course right.” Miss. Edel blew bubbles in the young girl’s face and she laughed infectiously. 

Miss. Edel lead them to the mouth of the cave, holding a satchel in her hands. 

“Take this. It has all you should need.” Miss. Edel smiled, holding it out for Ahiru to take.

“Thank you for all your help, I feel horrible, I have no way to pay you.” 

“The cloth your clothes are made of are valuable, and I would like to take them as payment, if you don’t mind.” 

Ahiru nodded, smiling, glad she was able to contribute. “Not at all!” 

Miss. Edel smiled, tilting her head and raising her hand to pat Ahiru’s cheek. “Off you go, and best of luck to you on your journey.” 

“Thank you, Miss. Edel!” Ahiru swam out into open water, waving good-bye, Uzura swimming in circles, excitedly talking about the adventure they were about to go on, shouting farewells to Miss. Edel every few seconds. 

Ahiru took a deep breath and then turned to face the nothingness before swimming into it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *forgive me if there are any mistakes, I didn’t have time to edit, that being said if there are any mistakes please feel free to point them out.


End file.
